A Leaf on the Wind
by Miss Kayl
Summary: Firefly xover. The Alliance has done some less than wonderful things over the years. This time, though, they meddled with forces that tend to meddle right back.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Both BtVS and Firefly belong to Joss Whedon. The basic idea for this story came from Yahtzee's _Phoenix Rising_. The idea of mixing these two 'verses in this way is mine.

AN: I have an earlier story that started to explore the basic plot of this story (which I won't spoil for you), one that had ground to a halt, unfortunately. And then I found Firefly…

A Leaf on the Wind

Prologue

"Earth-That-Was could no longer sustain our numbers, we were so many. We found a new solar system, dozens of planets, and hundreds of new worlds—each one terra-formed, a process taking decades, to support human life, to be new worlds.

"The central planets formed the Alliance. Ruled by an inter-planetary parliament, the Alliance was a beacon of enlightenment. The savage outer planets were not so enlightened, and refused Alliance control. The war was devastating. But the Alliance's victory over the Independents insured a safer universe. And now, everyone can enjoy the comfort and enlightenment of true civilization."

At least, that's what everyone was taught…


	2. A Botched Job

Disclaimer: Both BtVS and Firefly belong to Joss Whedon. The basic idea for this story came from Yahtzee's _Phoenix Rising_. The idea of mixing these two 'verses in this way is mine.

A Leaf on the Wind

A Botched Job

It was like switches being flipped. One minute, peace and light. The next, an endless sea of blackness. Before she had time to adjust to that, though, the switch was flipped again to reveal—normal darkness. The sort behind your eyelids, that ends when you wake up and open your eyes.

She did so now, and stared up at what she assumed was the ceiling. It had a diffuse light emanating from it, thankfully not too bright. She blinked a few times, trying to figure out where the light source was as her body ran through a quick inventory.

Two arms and legs? Check.

One head? Probably check, what with the eyes opening.

Sight and sound? Check to one, not sure about the other.

Clothes?

She blinked again and realized grumpily that that was a definite not-check.

Position? On her back, on a—what, a padded table?

With everything accounted for, more or less, she moved her head and tried to look around. She was alone, as far as she could see, and she slowly eased herself into a sitting position. The room she was in looked bare, save for the table she sat on and a cabinet in a back corner. Everything was very metallic, sterile looking. She was thinking hospital, maybe a lab.

A small sound made her head whip around, and she saw a hint of light from under the door an instant before the knob turned. She laid back down hurriedly and closed her eyes.

"—incompetent fools, the lot of you! How could you miss?" a voice snapped. Older, male, definitely used to being in charge, she judged.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ashwert," a nervous female voice stammered. "I have no idea—"

"Bah. Young woman, there is no point in pretending to be asleep," the first said crisply.

It took a moment, but she realized he was talking to her. With an annoyed sigh that he'd figured out she was faking so quickly, she pushed herself up.

The man in front of her wore odd looking clothes, kind of militaristic maybe, looked to be in his fifties. He was stern-faced, and he wore what looked like a pair of blue surgical gloves—those latex rubber things. She glanced at the woman, who had a rather bland, non-descript look and outfit, then back at the guy in charge and waited.

He smiled grimly. "You're certainly an improvement. Quiet, and you haven't tried to murder me yet."

"Is there a reason I should?" she asked, shifting on the table so that she sat cross-legged on the table. This whole waking up without any clothes on and two strangers in the room with her was just a little weird, and not just a little discomforting.

He ignored the question, which was fine since it was mostly rhetorical. "What's your name?"

She considered a moment, judging the danger of giving him that bit of information, then, with a tiny shrug, went ahead and answered. "Willow."

"Surname?"

"Rosenberg," she replied, watching him fiddle with a—a Palm Pilot?

"Not on the list." Ashwert gave the woman a deeply disgusted look and strode out, tossing over his shoulder, "Terminate."

Once the door closed, the woman let out what sounded like a regretful sigh and walked across the room towards Willow. "I am sorry," she said, fiddling with something that looked medical. "It's not right, to bring you back only to—"

She shook her head.

"Bring me back from where?" Willow demanded, somewhat alarmed. She had been somewhere?

The woman looked at her briefly then back down at her instrument. "You were dead."

"Oh." She blinked, processing that. She'd been dead? That would explain—well, not much, but—she remembered light, and peace…

"Give me your arm, dear," the woman directed.

"What? Why?"

The woman just gave her a sympathetic look. It was at this point that Willow's mind finally realized that it had a purpose and stepped up to do its job. She scrambled off the table, putting it between her and the woman. "No way!"

"It's all right," the woman soothed. "It won't hurt. I promise. We're just—returning you to your previous state."

Willow rolled her eyes, her arms folded in front of her chest. "You're going to kill me."

"Well, yes. Technically."

"Well, no," she said as the woman came around the table with what was probably a syringe in her hand. She slapped it out of the woman's hand, grateful for training with Buffy and that coming back to life was apparently not the same as waking up from a coma, with the atrophication and everything.

"What—"

Willow grabbed something hard and metal, winced at what she was about to do, and whacked her on the head before she could finish her stunned question, dropping the woman instantly.

She moved fast, rummaging around the cabinet in the back of the room until she found a shirt and pants and put them on, then she stole the woman's shoes, glad they mostly fit, and slipped out the door.

The halls were empty as she hurried through them as quietly as possible, a fact both helpful and worrisome. It looked like an office mixed with a hospital. Then she ducked through a door and found that it _was_ a hospital.

A glance showed "Authorized Personnel Only" and some—Chinese? Japanese?—on the door she'd just come out of. Well, that was comforting, in a not so much way.

Willow took a moment to look around the busy ward she'd just entered, assessing the situation a little—or trying to wrap her brain around what was going on, take your pick—then she started moving towards what looked to be an exit.

"Nurse? Excuse me, nurse?"

A man in a wheelchair stopped in front of Willow, who blinked at him in surprise before her brain caught up with the situation. It, very politely, pointed out that her safety likely hinged on not drawing anyone's attention, considering it didn't appear she was missed yet, so acting like she belonged here was probably a good idea.

She plastered a bright and cheerful smile on her face. "Yes? What can I do for you?"

"Find my doctor and tell him I've been waiting _three_ hours!"

Yikes. Unhappy customer. She was glad she didn't have to deal with him. She kept the smile plastered to her face in her best 'customer service is our business!" expression and said, "Of course, sir. I'll go get him right away."

She moved off swiftly, having seen a reception desk and, beyond that, the outside world. The impatient one could wait.

She got outside without incident, looked around in what was probably a vain attempt to identify where she was, and blanched at the sight of a vehicle flying over her. Flying. One not a helicopter or a plane, with flashing lights. Last she checked, this type of vehicle didn't exist.

"Ooh-boy," she muttered, looking around at the part of the city she could see in a new light. "This is—bad. Very, very bad."

"There she is!"

The shout behind her made her half turn, then she bolted for the street, panting, "Of course, that would be worse."

She wasn't sure how long she ran, ducking around corners and dodging pedestrians. She wasn't bothered about why she was here, where she was going, or even where she was at the moment. She could figure all that out after she got away from the people who wanted to kill her. After all, she was already lost. It wasn't like she could get more lost.

She discovered that, no, she could definitely get more lost than she was now when she rounded a corner at a brisk walk and found herself staring at a row of what had to be spaceships. Real honest to God spaceships, only nothing like the shuttles back home. More like the sort of things you would find in a science-fiction movie.

A young-ish looking man suddenly stepped in front of her, asking in a drawling voice, "Need a lift, little lady?"

Willow's eyes glazed over a little, giving him a disinterested look. Okay, she might be a little petite, but she was in no way, shape, or form a 'little lady'. "Need a nose job?"

Puzzlement crinkled his face. "No?"

"Want to need one?" she asked.

At least he wasn't a complete moron. He moved out of her way, shaking his head, and she moved on restlessly. She needed to contact Buffy and Xander. They were around, right? They had to be around--it couldn't be…that is to say…Resurrection only worked for a little while. It wasn't like she'd traveled through time or anything, right?

Right?

Was that possible?

Okay, so spaceships…after all, they had…shuttles…

Crap.

_You died, you moron_, she thought.

_So?_

_So, someone brought you back with magic. Someone not Buffy and Xander. Those are spaceships you're walking past. The likelihood of it still being the twenty-first century is somewhere between, oh, zero and zilch. Buff and Xander are not going to _be_ here for you to contact. _

She found a quiet corner and sat down on a step, her head resting in her hands. _Okay, Will, think. The blue hand dude said—what did he say? He said they'd missed, that I wasn't on the list. What list? What did they miss? Okay, they were aiming for—what, for somebody else? Who would they be trying to bring back? And how would they get me instead? Another witch?_

She thumped her forehead with the heel of her palm, like she was trying to dislodge an idea or something. Amazingly enough, it did jar a thought into place. She sat bolt upright. They missed. They were aiming for someone in her time. And the blue hand dude—the BHD—had remarked that she had been an improvement because she hadn't tried to murder him yet.

"Oh shit," she said, very quietly to herself as she stared at her hands. What sort of person would instantly go on the offensive after waking up in a strange place? Well, okay, maybe plenty of people, but who in her life would do it? Fighters…vampires…Slayers. Buffy.

"They were trying to raise Buffy," she told the wall in front of her. She hoped that saying it out loud would make it somewhat less—less what? Less shocking? Less of a marvel at how seriously incompetent these people could be? The Watcher's Council had always been moronic, but this—this definitely took the cake. Trying to bring Buffy back—holy Hera, they would have definitely seen murder then.

Oh. She hadn't tried to kill him. That meant that somebody had tried to kill him. That meant that he had raised at least one other Slayer, and possibly more. That was—she didn't like that idea, of someone like that having any sort of control over Slayers. If he was Council, most Slayers would follow him simply because he was Council. She wondered how far back he'd gone, and how far forward from—from her time.

It was so strange, thinking about 'her time'. She was certain it hadn't really sunk in yet, and when it did she was so not going to take it all that well. But for now, she could stay calm and rational, and decide how to get back into that hospital without getting caught and killed.

_What?_

_Yeah—go back. Help Slayers. Keep bad guys away from them. _

_What are you, nuts? Slayers can take care of themselves. You need to take care of yourself. That doesn't include walking back into the jaws of death._

_Was already dead. _

_You're not anymore. Let's try and keep it that way. _

Willow growled in frustration at the internal argument. It was an old 'same song, different verse' one—duty versus self-preservation. At this point, though, she was edging towards self-preservation, if only to have a chance to figure out a) where she was, b) when she was, c) what she was up against, and d) why the Council had decided to bring dead Slayers back to life. It wasn't exactly something you did on a whim. At least, she didn't think it was.

She pushed herself to her feet and headed down the street. First goal—find out where she was.

It was easily achieved. She stopped the first person she saw walking down the street and asked, "Sorry, I'm a little lost. What city is this?"

The somewhat haughty looking gentleman cocked an eyebrow but replied, "This is the capital city of Ariel, young lady. Exactly how lost are you?"

Willow ran through several options for reactions, but she finally sighed and said, "Really lost. Where's Ariel?"

The guy she'd stopped looked her up and down arrogantly and informed her, "Playing games is childish, young lady. Ariel is a Core planet—everyone knows where it is."

He strode off with a sniff. Willow stared after him. It wasn't the snippity-ness that was making her stare. No, it was the phrase 'Core planet'. She jogged after him, demanding when she was close enough, "This isn't Earth?"

He looked over his shoulder coldly, exasperated. "Enough, girl! Be on your way. I don't have time for fools."

She stopped and watched him until he entered a building. This wasn't Earth? She wasn't on Earth? There were planets _other_ than Earth? _When_ the hell _was_ she?


	3. From Here to Serenity

Disclaimer: Both BtVS and Firefly belong to Joss Whedon. The basic idea for this story came from Yahtzee's _Phoenix Rising_. The idea of mixing these two 'verses in this way is mine.

A Leaf on the Wind

From Here to Serenity

Willow made her way through the crowds, looking around watchfully. It had been about twelve hours since she had woken up, twelve hours since she had realized that she was way, way out of her time zone.

After—rudely—finding out that she wasn't on Earth _anyway_, she had decided that getting aboard one of those ships she had walked past was an excellent idea that she would need to put into action ASAP, before the people commanded by the BHD—blue hand dude—found her and went ahead with the whole killing her thing, which she wasn't too keen on. She didn't care if she had been dead before and they were just 'returning her to her previous state'. She was alive now, and she wanted to stay that way.

Having no money with which to buy passage, she had stowed away on a ship. During the brief six hour voyage, she had succeeded in finding some clothes; after, a little cash, neither necessarily legally, but at least she wasn't broke and wearing something that made her stick out. She really needed to get off the planet she was on now, though, whatever it was. One hop was too traceable, too easy to figure out where she had gone.

The row of ships taking on passengers was long. She found the screens giving the pertinent information without too much trouble, but realized almost immediately that she hadn't the faintest idea where any of the worlds listed were located, so she turned to checking out the ships themselves. There were, to put it lightly, a lot of different makes and designs, some neat, some not so much.

_Of course,_ she thought, eyeing a screen as she drew even with it. _Price is a good deciding factor as well._

The man at the ship she started walking towards smiled earnestly, touching the brim of his hat. "Mornin', ma'am."

"Morning," she replied with her own smile.

"Lookin' to fly to Whitehead?" he asked.

"I don't really have a destination--in—" Her voice faded as the crowd off to her left thinned out, and her eye was caught by the name of the ship next to the one she was looking at. "—mind."

She blinked at the other ship, trying to decide how big a sense of humor the universe had, exactly. After all she and her friends had been through, what they'd looked for with all the violence in their lives, what were the odds that now, on her own, she would find a ship named _Serenity_?

"Hey, miss? Hey!"

She ignored the now less than happy man she'd been talking to and drifted over to the other ship, studying it closely. It resembled a—okay, it resembled an insect, but a neat looking insect._Serenity_, huh? She wondered how it had gotten that name.

"That was a wise decision."

Willow started then looked over to the white-haired black man that stood beside her. He smiled, seeing her puzzlement.

"Not shipping out with them, I mean." He nodded over to the ship that she had first looked at. "I'm told that you're as likely to have your things stolen and your throat cut as to make it to your destination with them."

"Really?" Willow glanced over at the ship then made a face. "Wow. They should, like, have a sign up for stuff like that—play Russian roulette, come fly with us."

The man gave her an odd look. "Russian roulette?"

Willow glanced at him, a little surprised. He hadn't heard of it? "It's a—well, some people call it a game. Stick a bullet in a revolver, spin it, then fire. One in six chance that you'll get your brains blown out. Five in six you won't."

"Ah." A frown creased his forehead. "This is a game where you come from?"

"Not a very intelligent one," she said dryly.

"I would think not," he agreed, matching her for dryness. "And I do think there is a general warning of that nature—I believe it goes 'ship out at your own risk'."

"Isn't that always the excuse?" she sighed, folding her arms. She glanced at _Serenity_ again. "What do you know about that one?"

"Which one? Ah." He followed her gaze, nodding. "She's a good ship. She'll get you where you're going."

"What about the crew?"

"A rough lot, most of them, but they're good people." He seemed to consider that for a moment then added, "Mostly. No one will kill you in your sleep, at least."

"That's always a plus," Willow observed. "You think they'll deal on the price?"

He gave her a considering look then nodded to a young woman seated in a chair on the ship's ramp. "Go talk to her. You might sway her."

"Thanks," Willow said, offering her helper a smile.

"My pleasure," he replied with his own smile, and moved off.

Willow hesitated, looking around, then made her way across the dusty street to the young woman in the chair, who smiled brightly at her. "Hello."

"Hi," Willow said, her eyes moving between the young woman and the ship. The design was really fascinating.

"She's a beaut, ain't she?" the young woman grinned, watching her.

"Yeah," Willow agreed, tearing her eyes from the ship long enough to look at who she was talking to. "Yeah, she is."

The woman stuck out her hand, saying, "I'm Kaylee."

"Willow," Willow replied, shaking her hand. "Where is it you're going? Beaumont?"

"That's right," Kaylee agreed. "You headin' out that way?"

"I'm actually not headed anywhere in particular," Willow admitted, shifting to get a better look around. "Just—traveling, I guess."

"I know a couple folks doing that." Kaylee nodded. "Just wanna check out the 'verse before settling down?"

"Something like that."

"Well, we can get you to Beaumont. After that, I guess you'd need to talk to the captain," Kaylee said.

Willow nodded, sliding her hands into the pockets of the jacket she'd acquired, looking a little sheepish. "Here's the thing—cash? A little tight right now. Between jobs and everything."

"Oh, really?" Kaylee looked a little hesitant, not that it was a surprise. "How—how much you got?"

Willow told her a little lower than what she was carrying so that she'd have some left to bargain with or, hopefully, left over, and saw her visibly relax. "Oh, that's fine. Captain just likes to set the price high so it'll haggle down."

"Oh." Willow grinned. "That's a relief."

Kaylee smiled cheerfully and asked, "You got any bags or anything?"

"Afraid not," Willow admitted, spreading her hands. "This is it. What you see is what you get."

Kaylee looked a little surprised, but before she had a chance to comment a man wearing suspenders and an expression that said 'I'm welcoming and friendly. No really, honest' strode up onto the ramp. "Kaylee. We got passengers?"

"Two," Kaylee replied with a smile for him. "This is Willow. The other one's stowing his gear."

"Hmm." The man looked Willow over then asked, "You ain't got no gear?"

"No," she said. "I—like to travel light."

"Your stuff get stolen?" he asked dryly.

That was a good cover story. Mix in a little truth and it just might do. She put on a wry look. "Unfortunately. Got mixed up with a—a bad crowd."

Kaylee put her hands on her hips, a little scowl on her face. "Thought you were traveling."

"I am," Willow protested. "I want to travel for a while."

"So the folks you pissed off don't come lookin' for you, I reckon," the newcomer put in, rolling his eyes.

Will shrugged, seeing her spot on this ship fluttering away. Something told her that if this wasn't the captain, he was the first mate or something. "Does it matter? I've got money to pay for a trip."

He looked her over again then snorted and said, "Just so long as you don't bring trouble down on me and my ship."

"I won't," she promised.

"Uh huh." He started up the ramp. "We're in the air in ten."

Fifteen minutes later, they'd gone through the obligatory 'stay out of the cargo bay and off the bridge, kitchen's open help yourself' speech. Willow was turning to head out and check out her room when she saw the man who'd nudged her towards _Serenity_ coming into the kitchen. Her jaw nearly dropped. "You!"

He smiled at her, observing, "I see you decided to get on board. Welcome."

"Shepherd? You know her?" the captain, who had been introduced as Mal Reynolds, asked, looking between Willow and the other man.

The shepherd glanced at him, still smiling slightly. "The young lady was looking for a ship. I gave her the benefit of my opinion." He looked back at Willow. "Allow me to properly introduce myself—Shepherd Book."

"Uh huh." Mal looked between his new passenger and his resident preacher, then shook his head and headed out, muttering to himself.

Willow put her hands on her hips, scowling at Book. "Why didn't you tell me you were on this ship?"

"You didn't ask," he replied blandly.

That de-railed her for a brief moment, but she recovered quickly. "Okay, yeah. But—still! With the not bothering to mention it! Not fair."

"Preacher likes to keep his own council," Mal's tall, black, and gorgeous first mate, Zoe, told Willow with a hint of a smile.

Willow huffed, not pacified, but she did get distracted when a blond guy with a very Hawaiian shirt ambled in. "Greetings, all. What's—whoa. When'd we get new passengers? Did Mal say we were picking up passengers?"

"You were possibly busy flying the ship," Zoe said.

"That's always important," the last person in the kitchen offered. He was the other passenger, a young man on his way to Beaumont for work. Willow hadn't caught his name. He gave everyone a somewhat shy smile then, when yet another person entered the kitchen, ducked his head and left with some alacrity.

Willow turned to see who had, apparently, sent him off so fast, but it was just a woman—granted, a beautiful and very well dressed woman—but no one she thought was anything to scare off the other passenger.

The newcomer smiled at Willow as Zoe and Hawaiian-shirt-guy went off together. "Hello."

"Hi." Willow offered a smile, still wondering why the other passenger had, for all intents and purposes, beat it when she walked in. Obviously, there was something that she was missing. Okay, there was a lot that she was missing—a culture lesson catching her up God knew how long would be helpful. If it was a cultural thing. Was she part of the crew? She had to be part of the crew if there were only two passengers.

"Are you one of our new passengers?" the woman asked as she moved into the 'kitcheny' part of the kitchen and filled a teapot with water.

"Yeah. My name's Willow," she replied, watching her as she made tea. She was very graceful—Willow wasn't sure she'd seen anyone quite that graceful who wasn't a Slayer, and even they had a sense of contained power behind it. It was like comparing a tiger to a swan.

"I am Inara," the woman said, and Willow realized that she was staring just a little more than was proper.

She gave her head a little shake and said, "Nice to meet you."

Inara glanced up with a smile. "And you."

Her eyes shifted to Book for an instant, looking almost amused, then back to what she was doing. Willow looked at the shepherd, nonplussed, but before she could even think of how to phrase a question, she was distracted by the entrance of a rather loud young man. If she hadn't grown up with Xander, she would wonder how one guy could simply enter a room so noisily, but she had so she didn't. Xander…no. Don't think about them, they're not here, they can't help, and thinking about them just led to depression.

She took a few steps out of his way and cast a querying glance at the shepherd.

"That's Jayne," Book answered her silent question. "Do you remember the more or less bit I mentioned?"

"Uh huh."

"He would be the less."

Willow gave Jayne a good look while he seemed to be oblivious to her presence—or anyone else's for that matter—as he grabbed a snack, then she shrugged. "Just so long as I don't, like, wind up broke or, y'know, dead." Again.

"You should be fine," Book assured her.

Inara came into the dining area of the kitchen, her cup of tea in her hands, and smiled at Willow. "I agree. I doubt Jayne will give you any trouble. Are you heading for Beaumont?"

"More or less," Willow said, to a smile from Book. "I don't really have a destination in mind."

Inara cocked her head, curious. "Then, if you don't mind my asking, how did you pick _Serenity_?"

Willow looked around the interior of the ship and admitted to herself that it was a valid question. She gave the other woman a crooked smile. "Would you believe it was because of the name?"

She got a smile in return, and Inara nodded. "Yes, I do. The name drew me as well." She looked around, a tiny little smile lingering on her face. "I love this ship."

Willow leaned against the back of a chair, curious. "So—not a passenger then, I take it?"

"No." Inara shook her head. "I rent a shuttle. It allows me freedom, but also allows me to conduct my business as I like."

"What's your business?" Willow asked.

"I'm a Companion."

She said it like she expected Willow to know what it meant, and for all Willow knew, she should know. However, feigning knowledge never seemed to work out right, so she shook her head and asked, "Companion?"

Both Inara and Book looked at her in surprise, and Jayne demanded from somewhere in the kitchen, "You ain't never heard of Companions?"

"Pretend I'm not a complete spaz and simply forgot?" Willow asked hopefully.

It got the somewhat puzzled chuckle that she intended, and Inara explained, "This is putting it rather simply, but a Companion could be likened to a very high-priced courtesan. Of course, that's only one facet."

"She's a whore," Jayne translated, unnecessarily.

Willow saw a flash of annoyance cross Inara's face and directed her own annoyed look at Jayne. "I got it the first time, thanks." Her attention returned to Inara. "So you're like a geisha, only not Japanese, and without the face paint."

The other woman chuckled softly, nodding and settling in a chair. "Yes, to a point. I believe we find our roots in the geisha tradition, though it's somewhat removed from the ancient practices."

Ancient. God, she never thought she'd ever hear anything that was still around in the twentieth century referred to as ancient. Honestly—who would have? This was definitely going to take some getting used to.

"How is it that you're familiar with the geisha but haven't heard of Companions?" Book asked, leaning against the counter with his arms folded.

Uh oh.

Willow did not consider herself to be all that great at making up stories, at least not plausible ones, and she scrambled for something to say that wouldn't give rise to more questions. "I--like old books." She invented fast. "My--father was a--a historian, and we were--kind of isolated, so…kinda stuck in the past?"

"You lived near the outer rim?" Inara asked.

"Er…" What would be a good answer? "Yes?"

Inara looked a little amused. Book just looked a touch puzzled. "You don't sound too certain about that."

Jayne, who had been listening with minimal interest, said, "If you don't want to tell'em, you don't gotta. Plenty of folks don't want to talk about where they're from."

"You, for instance?" Inara asked with a hint of a smile. She sipped her tea while Jayne grumbled under his breath and left, then returned her attention to Willow. "We weren't trying to pry. Just curiosity--it's not normal for someone not to have heard of what I do."

"Just…call me abnormal," Willow said weakly.

"I'd rather call you Willow," Inara said with that little smile. "It's a much prettier name."

Uh…huh. Willow's keenly trained senses sat up and eyed the woman, wondering if she was doing it deliberately. After all, wh—uh, Companion, apparently government sanctioned…right. Before the slight warmth she felt turned into a full on blush, Willow said, "I think I'm going to go check out my room."

She turned, took a step, and stopped. She looked at the others sheepishly. "Er…if I can find it, that is."

"I'll show you," Book said, pushing off the counter. "The passenger dormitories are down this way."

"Thanks."

They reached the dormitories as a door slid open and a young man came out of one of the rooms. "Oh, hello."

"Hello." Book performed introductions. "Willow, this is Simon. He's the doctor on board. Simon, one of our passengers, Willow."

"Nice to meet you," Simon said with a nod for Willow then looked at Book. "We have passengers?"

"I think you were otherwise occupied when the captain made that decision," Book said.

"He does tend to make them on the spur of the moment, doesn't he?"

"Probably a lot more fun than planning," someone said. Willow realized it had been her, and blushed when the two crew members looked at her. "Or, you know, not."

"Perhaps." Simon smiled at her, looking faintly puzzled, then asked Book, "Have you seen my sister?"

"She was in the cargo bay last I saw her," Book said.

"All right, thank—here she comes."

With a nervous glance towards Willow that she didn't understand, he moved past the two of them. Willow turned and watched as he halted the—girl? young woman?—a few yards from them, speaking softly with her. Something about the way she moved looked familiar, and when she pulled away from Simon with a smile for his exasperated look and walked towards Willow and Book, Willow realized why. The grace that Inara had, this girl had too, but simmering underneath that, almost unnoticeable, was the sense of contained power the other woman had lacked. It was hidden—if Willow hadn't spent so much time among Slayers at different levels of training, she wouldn't have noticed it. But she didn't get the impression of Slayer, called or uncalled, from the girl. That was…interesting.

"River? River…"

River ignored her brother, stopping a few feet from Willow, and cocked her head curiously.

"Hi," Willow said.

"Hi," River said.

"River," Simon said with a blend of patience and exasperated affection in his voice. "Let's not bother the nice passenger, all right?"

He came towards them, hand out like he intended to take River, but the girl moved away just before he came within arm's reach. Willow's interest snapped to attention. Oh, she could have heard him, or it could have been coincidence, but…

"You're a long way from home," River told Willow. She turned to look around at her brother. "She's a long way from home."

"Most people are," Simon said. He stood still, apparently having given up moving her off.

"No." River turned back to Willow, who watched her in curious silence. "Not as far as she is." She frowned a little, looking at Willow intently. "There's a lateral component, yes, but there's also a temporal one. It's very strange."

Willow froze.

"There's always a temporal component to travel, River," Book said while Simon stared at his sister. "Time doesn't stand still, after all."

River gave him a look of blatant disgust then jerked her chin towards Willow. "She knows what I mean."

Book and Simon looked at Willow. Willow forced herself to relax and shrug. "Not a clue. Sorry."

River gave her a strange smile. "Time marches on for no one, and all the little fishies woke up."

"Oo-kay," Simon said. "I think we need to go see about getting something to eat, River."

He laid a cautious hand on her arm, but she didn't seem inclined to pull away this time, still looking at Willow. "All the little fishies…the one that got away is the one they'll regret. And the one they never caught."

"Why?" Willow asked sharply. She had spent too much time in the realm of the weird and nonsensical to wonder how the girl seemed to have figured out what happened. She just wanted to find out what she knew.

"Because all the little fishies they have are minnows." River gave her a beatific smile. "And the ones they don't are barracudas."

"River, let's go," Simon said with a glance at Willow.

Willow watched the pair walk off, her mind working furiously. That hadn't sounded so much like a prophecy as a promise. Who _was_ that girl?

"Don't mind River," Book said. He made Willow jump, having forgotten he was present. "She's a little…odd, but she's harmless."

"Nice, friendly," Willow said faintly. She turned to look at him, unable to believe…did he really believe she was harmless? Rabbits were harmless (Anya's opinions notwithstanding). Puppies and kittens were harmless. People who knew things they shouldn't and moved with the restrained power of a fighter were not harmless. Maybe he thought so because she was a young girl, but Willow had grown up learning exactly how harmful a young girl could be when riled. If he honestly believed--no. She looked into his eyes and saw that he did_not_ really believe that. He knew there was something strange about her, other than her sounding like she was a couple fries short of a Happy Meal. But he wouldn't admit it to a passenger.

"Harmless," she agreed. "Likes fish, does she?"

"Apparently, though this is the first time I recall her speaking on them at length," Book said. He gave her a long look, like he was trying to figure her out. Willow returned it with her best bright-and-empty smile. Either he bought it or he decided not to push it. He gestured. "Your room is here."

"Thanks." Willow glanced through the door then back at the shepherd.

"Will you be joining us at dinner?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said with a nod. Food was good. She liked the idea of food.

"Then I'll see you at dinner." He gave her a nod then headed up the stairs.

Willow watched him go then, thoughtful, slid her door closed and sat down on the bed. She thought about what had happened to her since her--awakening? resurrection? She thought about River's statement, like a prophesy, about what it did and could mean. She thought about a comment she had read in a book about policemen and how they couldn't get a vacation because crime always seemed to find them. She thought about the Scooby gang and how demon activity always seemed to find them, whether they were looking or not. And she said, very quietly to herself, "Damn. Are we looking at _another_ apocalypse?"

-


	4. Time to Go

Disclaimer: Both BtVS and Firefly belong to Joss Whedon. The basic idea for this story came from Yahtzee's _Phoenix Rising_. The idea of mixing these two 'verses in this way is mine.

Thank you to those who have reviewed so far (and those who will review subsequent chapters -meaningful look-). Just wanted to address some things mentioned in said reviews--a lot of questions and things brought up will be addressed and/or answered throughout the story. Just two things I felt needed clarification other than through the story. 1) Willow's magic is explained in this chapter to a certain degree, but I've never really seen her use magic instinctively unless she was already doing magic. 2) The Caleb/Mal thing is not even an issue. I look at it, same actor, two completely different characters who may or may not look somewhat similar. The fact that they 'look alike' has already been addressed, and rather well, in a Xander-centric crossover, so not going to play with that. Mal's fun enough without making him look like an evil preacher dude with a thing against the female population.

With that said, on with the show.

A Leaf on the Wind

Time to Go

Life on _Serenity_ was quiet, even fun at times. The other passenger, a man named Bree, was heading to Beaumont to catch a ship to some little planet with a mining colony. At dinner in the evenings, he joined in with the crew in telling amusing stories about his work. Through these dinner conversations, and conversations through out the day, Willow learned some about recent history and the crew. Simple stuff, like that Hawaiian-shirt-guy was called Wash and was the pilot and Zoe's husband. That Zoe and the captain had apparently known each other for a _very_ long time. That Kaylee was the ship's mechanic. That Simon and River tended to keep to themselves. Oh, and that there had apparently been a war in the recent past that still caused much tension. She so needed to find a history book. She felt like she was trying to wade through the sea without a map, compass, or boat. There had to be some version of the internet here, right? Okay, inter-planetary-net.

A day or two after getting on board, after listening to Jayne poke fun at Inara, she struck on an idea. And after dinner, she put it into action.

She followed Inara out of the kitchen. "Hey, uh--Inara?"

Inara turned then smiled and gestured. "Walk with me. What is it?"

Willow caught up with her and offered her own smile. She had tried to figure out the best way to approach her want of information, and had decided that going with something she'd already admitted ignorance of would be best.

"I've been wondering," she said as they made their way down the hall. "You don't have any information on the history of Companioning, do you? Is that a word?"

"It can be," Inara chuckled. "I've heard it used as a noun, adjective, and a verb, so I suppose anything goes."

They descended the stairs to the lower level.

"There are several good articles in the encyclopedia and on the Cortex." Inara glanced at her. "May I ask why you're interested?"

Willow had an answer to that all ready. "My father wasn't the only one who liked history. It's one of my hobbies. You--er--wouldn't happen to have access to either of those, would you? Or know where I could find one?"

Inara stopped and gave her an odd look, like she was trying to decide something. Finally, she nodded. "I have a computer with an encyclopedia and Cortex access. Would you like to borrow it?"

Willow nodded fast, grateful. "If you don't mind."

"It's in my shuttle."

Inara led the way to her shuttle and opened the door. Willow stepped in with a low whistle. "Nice."

That made Inara chuckle as she went to get the computer. "I entertain clients here. It helps to look--"

"Sumptuous?" Willow suggested, then went a little red.

"I was going to say impressive, but sumptuous does nicely." Inara laughed as she offered Willow the small computer.

"Thanks." Willow smiled then asked, "Um--is there a password or anything?"

"No." Inara shook her head. "No password."

"Okay, thanks. Thanks a lot," Willow said. "I'll get this back as soon as I can."

"No hurry," Inara said. "By the time we reach Beaumont is fine."

"Okay. Yeah, okay. Thanks." Willow nodded several times. "Thank you very much."

"You're very welcome," Inara said, amused. She watched the younger woman leave, thoughtful, then went to her shuttle computer and connected to the Cortex. She didn't find what she was looking for, which was a relief. She liked the quiet redhead, even if she was a bit odd.

-

Willow returned to her room and fiddled with the computer until she figured out how it worked, then she settled with her back against the headboard and started reading through whatever articles she could find on history. The information available was amazingly sparse. There had been a mass exodus from Earth--called Earth that Was for some reason--from some unspecified catastrophe. They had terra-forming technology, and so had terra-formed planets to support human life. Time had passed, then the War for Independence had happened a few years ago. That was it. Oh, it had information on the planets, on the reigning government, the Alliance, plenty of information on the war. All of it at least a little useful for Willow, but she couldn't find the information she was really searching for., She hadn't known she'd been so narrowly focused on this bit of information until she realized that she had skipped over several interesting articles about the cultures of several planets, including the one she was heading for, without so much as a passing glance.

She wanted to know _when_ she was. Not by Alliance reckoning, or planet reckoning, but by _her_ reckoning. How long had it been since she'd--since she'd been alive? Several hundred years, obviously, but…but…Willow knew it was dumb, pointless, not something she needed to know, but--she really did need to know. What year was it, by the standard to her, ancient to them, A.D. count? Three hundred years? Four? Eight? Ten? It wouldn't make a difference to her situation, but she was lost, adrift in a time not her own, without her friends. She needed something familiar to latch onto, and the only thing she could think of was knowing exactly when she was.

She sighed and thumped the back of her head against the headboard. "Okay," she said aloud to the room. "What would Buffy do if she was here?"

She considered that question.

"Strike that. What would Giles do if he was here?" She considered that for a moment. "Probably tell me to make sure I knew what I was dealing with. Which I don't. Not really. Morons with resurrection abilities. What next?"

Next would be to check the arsenal. She had no weapons, but magic…

She frowned at the computer that sat on the bed in front of her, and it levitated. So that worked. Only, something felt weird with that.

She frowned harder when she realized that the usual brimming magical reserves were seriously depleted. Was that because she had been brought back from the dead? She had been incredibly off-balance that first few hours after waking up, one of the reasons she hadn't blasted the people intent on killing her to kingdom come. Also the fact that performing magic in front of people was usually a bad idea, and that her fight or flight instincts hadn't added 'magic' to the list of split second options, especially when a kick in the teeth and a good head start were battling it out for first move. Now that she had had a couple days to settle in, calm down, and digest what had happened to her, the fact that her magic seemed much depleted worried her.

_When Buffy came back to life, she was a little out of it_, she told herself, trying to reassure herself. _It'll come back._

A treacherous other part felt the need to point out, _She remembered being in heaven. You don't. Ergo, not an excuse. _

_Shut up. _

Wait a minute--heaven. Buffy had remembered being in heaven. Willow--didn't. It wasn't like she remembered being in hell, because she didn't, but…she searched her memory for anything before that darkness that had preceded wakefulness, but all she got was the vaguest sense of light. Before that came the memory of her death, or at least the parts up until she died, and she really didn't want to look at that again. Once was quite enough.

A knock on her door jerked her out of her thoughts. She frowned a little at the door in puzzlement. "Come in?"

The door slid open and Shepherd Book stepped in, a Bible in his hands. Willow smiled. A few days on board the ship had confirmed her initial opinion of the man--she liked him. He kind of reminded her of Giles, in a quiet-elder-voice-of-experience way. "Hi Shepherd. What's up?"

"I was about to ask you that very question," Book said. "I heard muttering and what sounded distinctly like a head thump as I was passing, so I thought I'd see if you were all right."

She smiled wanly. "I'm all right. Just--trying to work some things out.

"Anything I could help with?" he asked. "I'm told I offer a good ear."

"Not really, Shepherd. Thanks though." Willow eyed the Bible and wondered…but a religious person would know, right? "Say, Shepherd, random question, but when was that thing written?"

Book looked puzzled for a moment, then held up the Bible. "What, this?"

"Yeah." At his continued puzzlement, she explained, "I wasn't raised Christian, but, ah, a friend asked me a while back, and I just now thought of it."

"Ah." He smiled. "Well, there is time to fix that, you know."

Willow snorted. What would he say if he found out she was a Jewish-raised-turned-Wiccan?

"Are you asking about when it was translated for the first time? Or written the first time? Because the different books were written at different times."

"Just the--uh--New Testament? Is that right?"

"It is." He looked at the book in his hands with a certain amount of fondness. "The books in the New Testament were written approximately twenty-five hundred years ago, give or take several decades--there was a calendar change, I believe, that moved the birth of Christ back a few years, and a few other changes in the calendar."

"Yeah, it got changed to 6 B.C. when they switched to the Gregorian calendar--what?"

"Nothing." Book continued to look at her oddly. "Your knowledge of history seems a bit--erratic, if you hadn't noticed."

Crap. She really needed to learn to keep her mouth shut. "Er--yeah. Sorry."

"It's nothing to apologize for," Book said mildly. "It's just interesting."

Right.

"Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?"

Willow shook her head.

"Then, if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to your workings." He gave her a smile then left, sliding the door shut behind him.

Willow leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Five hundred years, give or take. Five hundred…damn, she was older than Angel had been. Well, not really, what with the being dead and all, but--Angel! Spike! Were they around?

Her mind took a completely different tack, which startled her. D'Hoffryn. He _had_ to still be around. He'd been around for ten thousand years, another five hundred wouldn't have made much of a difference. Right? And why did she care? He was a freaking demon.

Demon.

Slayers.

The slayers--good God in heaven, the Watcher's Council. She berated herself for not thinking about it before. She could contact the Council. _They_ would…help…someone who claimed to be resurrected by some random people after having been dead for five centuries. Right…maybe not the best plan, but why hadn't she considered them before? Well, okay, she knew the answer to that. The Council plus space travel equaled un-mixy things. But she had to do something other than roam aimlessly for the rest of her hopefully long life.

She wondered idly what sort of consequences had been caused by her had-to-have-been-magical resurrection as she returned to the computer and started searching for evidence of the Council. They probably wouldn't have a website, if websites as she knew them still existed, but they didn't operate in a vacuum. There would be some sign of their presence, and she was Research-Gal. Finding those little traces was her job.

Happy now that she had something to do that was at least somewhat familiar, Willow set to work searching through the Cortex for any sign that the Watcher's Council still operated. Logically, there would still be slayers, so logically there would still be a Council. Right? Right.

Another knock some time later distracted Willow from her searching, and she said more sharply than she intended, "What?"

The door slid open. Inara entered with a tray, her head cocked. "Am I interrupting something?"

"What?" Willow looked up and made a face. "Sorry. Didn't mean to snarl at you. I get really involved in what I'm doing, and then I get grouchy."

"And don't take well to being interrupted, I see," Inara said with a smile to show she hadn't taken offense. "River said you were busy and wouldn't make it to dinner."

"River said--how did she--never mind." Willow shook her head. Trying to figure that girl out was next to impossible. "Thanks for that. I hadn't realized it was dinnertime."

She took the tray as Inara glanced at the computer. "What are you looking at? Property owned by businesses?" She looked at Willow. "Seems a bit of a step from the history of Companions."

"Yeah. Got sidetracked," Willow admitted.

"Apparently," the other woman murmured. She gave Willow a speculative look, something Willow was growing accustomed to, then said, "Enjoy your dinner."

"Thanks again," Willow said absently, already looking back at the screen.

-

By the time they reached Beaumont a few days later, Willow still hadn't found any trace of the Watcher's Council on the net. She realized, as she stood on the ramp looking out over the city they had landed in, that she didn't want to leave the ship. The crew was friendly enough, or kept away from the passengers if they weren't, and she didn't feel quite as adrift in a strange world--er--universe when on board. But there was nothing for it. She said her good-byes and ambled off to explore the city. This was, if she recalled from her reading, not a Core planet but not far from being one. Definitely not a frontier planet.

"Job," she muttered to herself as she made her way through the busy streets. "Need a job. Wonder what sort of jobs are available for a twenty-first century researcher-computer hacker-witch?"

Witch. That reminded her…

With a preoccupied look on her face as she walked that would have sealed her much shortened fate on a different type of world, she took a look at her magic and was glad to see that she was stronger than she had been on the ship, less glad to see that she still wasn't at full strength. Barely half, if she was gauging it right. She sighed and wistfully remembered the feeling of ultimate power--or at least so near to ultimate power that it could be seen on a clear day--from before she had, you know, died. Holy crap, could that have messed it up? That would suck.

"Ay-lo, girlie."

"Oh God," Willow muttered. She had wandered away from the crowds, to busy to pay attention to where she was going, and now stood at the entrance to an empty dead end on an equally empty street. She turned and--yep, there stood two rough looking men. One had a knife, the other a gun. She folded her arms and sighed. "World, meet Mutt and Jeff, twenty-sixth century version."

"Just hand over the goods, see, and no one gets hurt," one growled.

"Y'know," Willow said conversationally. "I really thought people only said stuff like that because they'd seen it done. But I seriously doubt you guys get bad re-runs, so I guess it's just a part of human nature."

"Eh?"

Tweedledumb looked confused. Tweedledee just raised his gun a little and said, "Valuables. Now."

Willow considered that. "What would happen if, say, I called for the police?"

"I would shoot you," he said flatly.

"Right. Um…what if I said I didn't have any valuables?"

"I would shoot you."

"Uh huh. And if I handed over whatever I had?"

"I would shoot you."

"Right. See, your incentive program needs some work," she pointed out. "Shooting me whatever I do doesn't make it seem like a good move to cooperate, if you know what I mean."

He smiled, revealing less than proper oral hygiene. "I guess it would depend on where I'm going to shoot you, now wouldn't it?"

"Ah." Willow, her hand already dipped into her magic, metaphorically speaking at least, nodded. "Just checking."

"So you gonna cooperate?"

"No."

He squeezed the trigger on his revolver at the same instant Willow whispered, "Protego."

It was a spell she'd borrowed from Harry Potter. One thing she had discovered is that the words didn't always make as much of a difference as the intent behind them, and protego was shorter than a lot of the standard shielding spells. Not as strong, didn't last as long, but for instantaneous results, it worked. It made a sphere around her.

At least, it was supposed to.

What it was _not_ supposed to do was turn her two attackers into bullfrogs.

With little purple polka-dots.

Er…

Willow cast a quick glance around the mostly deserted street, grabbed the gun and the knife from where they lay beside the two frogs, and hurried back towards the crowds.

She didn't see a shadow detach itself from a darker shadow and slip silently after her. It stayed back far enough that she wouldn't notice as it said into a communicator, "It looks as though there's more to his mistake than meets the eye."

-

Back among the crowds, Willow forced herself to relax. The weapons had been squirreled away for later use, if necessary. It was highly unlikely anyone would try to openly rob her in the middle of a crowded street. She was safe for now. So why didn't she feel safe?

_Well, there's the fact that you're on your own, your magic's gone wonky _and_ depleted for some reason, and you're five hundred years in the future with no knowledge of how to navigate properly or why you're here in the first place._

She wished her brain would shut up and stop offering up logical reasons.

"Miss Rosenberg."

_Of course, there's that too._

There was only one person she'd given her last name to in this time. She spun around, hand up and ready, and glared at the person who stood a few yards in front of her. Amazingly enough, no one walked between them, which told Willow something about the person she now faced. What that was, she didn't know, but she had a funny feeling she didn't want to find out. "Who are you?"

"I have no name." The man smiled, almost gently, which was really creepifying. "I was sent by those who mistakenly involved you in something that you had no need to be involved in."

"Their plan for un-involving me happens to be permanent," she snapped. She was ready to turn him into a purple polka-dotted bullfrog if he made one move towards her, crowds be damned, but so far he just stood there.

"Regrettably so. However, their first inclination was somewhat…rushed, they decided. They would like to extend an offer for your participation. Willing participation."

Was he kidding? He didn't look like he was kidding.

"No," she said flatly.

"Unfortunately, that is not an answer they will accept."

He seemed to be eyeing her hand--uh oh--oh boy. There was no way he could have seen--the road had been deserted! Right? Crap. She had to get away.

"Uh--who--who do you work for?"

He smiled again, still gently. "Miss Rosenberg, I can see by your face that you already know the answer to that."

"Uh--not really. I mean, they never actually got around to introducing themselves before they tried to shuffle me loose the mortal coil, you know."

He paused, as though considering, then nodded once. "I--work--for the Union of Allied Planets."

Crap. She had suspected that, but suspicion and confirmation were two completely different things. "Why'd they bring me back?"

"Miss Rosenberg, all your questions will be answered--after you come with me."

"Uh--no I'm not." She took a step back and ran up against a wall. Damn, her luck was certainly taking a holiday, wasn't it?

He moved forward, nodding. "Yes. You are."

"Thought they wanted willing participation," Willow shot back as she eased off the wall and back away from him.

He smiled, and there was nothing gentle in it this time. "In the absence of willing participation, they will take unwilling."

That was what she'd thought. She had a plan to get away, and she hoped to whatever powers were out there that her magic did what she intended it to this time.

She cast a quick glance behind her, making sure she had somewhere to go, then turned back to the man. He had already closed half the distance between them. Startled by his rapid movement, she jumped back, shouting, "Thicken!"

He ran into the invisible wall that sprang up between them and bounced backwards. Willow thanked her lucky stars individually and by name that it had worked properly as she spun around and bolted down the street. The wall wouldn't stay up for very long, just long enough for her to take several turns and get herself lost before he could find her again. Then she would find a ship and get off this rock.

Dammit, why did excitement have to follow her around like a stray dog? All she wanted was a little peace, and quiet, and…

She felt the spell some blocks away dissolve and poured on some more speed. Time to go.

-


	5. Journeys

Disclaimer: Both BtVS and Firefly belong to Joss Whedon. The basic idea for this story came from Yahtzee's _Phoenix Rising_. The idea of mixing these two 'verses in this way is mine.

My apologies for the delay. Loss of the internet--very bad.

A Leaf on the Wind

Journeys

It was amazing, really, how many jobs were available for someone who had a knack for technology and didn't ask too many questions. What was more amazing was how much people were willing to pay to get their jury-rigged and illegally obtained computers working. Or to see why their ship's computer was spitting out the equivalent of twenty-sixth century garbage. Or why their Cortex connection went down in the middle of a less than legal business transaction.

Willow had always had an affinity with technology, so with the combination of finding someone to show her how things worked and a little magic to speed things along, she soon found herself gainfully employed. The fact that it was less than legal, she tried to ignore. After all, she had no form of ID, no history, and, oh yeah, the government searching for her. Being honest and above board was just not an option. She didn't like it--been there and done that with the bad girl phase--but her talents lay in the direction of things which required a legal identity to do…well…legally.

The one thing she had a problem with? The language. Chinese, she soon discovered, was as common as English, and if you didn't speak it, you could very well find yourself staring blankly at someone halfway through the conversation because they decided to toss in a phrase or two that she didn't understand.

She showed a customer who had done just that out of her make-shift office, closed the door, and gently thumped her forehead against the wall.

"Ancient Egyptian," she muttered. "Sanskrit. Babylonian, cuneiform, even demonic languages. Anything but Chinese, please!"

"You need to learn, girl."

Willow sighed and turned to give the man the glare he deserved. He had showed her the technological ropes and given her the opportunity to bring in clients. He also insisted on teasing her unmercifully about her ignorance of a language that was spoken equally as much as English. His name was Rocky. He did most of his non-technical business with a man named Badger. Willow had no idea what had happened to naming conventions in the last five hundred years, but they hadn't improved much.

"You think I've spent the last few months twiddling my thumbs?" she demanded. "I've got a dozen or so stock phrases memorized. However, he started rattling off on something weird--I haven't learned the weird stuff yet."

Rocky snorted, folding his arms. "Still don't get how you got yourself raised somewhere where you didn't learn Chinese."

"Accident at birth," Willow grumbled, returning to her 'desk' and examining the latest mini-computer that needed fixing. "What did they do to this? Looks like they tried to use peanut butter to fix it."

He ambled over to take a look at the computer and muttered, "_Tzao-gao_."

"I think I know that one," Willow remarked.

"Shut up and sit down," Rocky said as he sat down himself, scowling. "Time to learn what we don't do to the nice computers."

"But I already know--Mr. Peanut Butter is not Mr. Computer's friend," Willow said even as she obeyed and sat down.

He glanced up with a dry, "This isn't peanut butter."

"Oh." She leaned closer. "Ooh--is it dissolving the casing?"

"Yep."

"Wow--hey, that wasn't very smart."

The look Rocky gave her was a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "Ya think? Hold this…"

The next hour or so was spent clearing off the--illegal, as it turned out--substance off the computer to see what was going on inside. Willow pretended not to see Rocky pocket a sample of the stuff, poking at the wires. "This doesn't look right."

He looked and cursed again, muttering, "What the hells did they do?"

"Um…looks like they switched the input with the data port and ran a serial…um…thing instead of the standard work up here and here." Willow frowned at the computer. "But this here--" She tapped a few wires that came together. "I can't figure out what this is for."

Muttering continuously under his breath, Rocky looked where she indicated. He muttered louder. Willow got the impression he was just a little pissed.

They were interrupted a little while later by a knock on the door that turned out to be more perfunctory than anything else, considering the knocker opened the door immediately.

"Barge right in, why don't you?" Rocky grumbled without looking up. "S'called manners, my friend. Learn them, use them."

"Er--Rocky?" Willow said. She had seen the pair who entered, and wondered what in the world they were doing here. It wasn't exactly the most posh part of town.

"What?"

Rocky finally looked up and gave the well-dressed couple a scrutinizing look. "Can I help you?"

"I am in need of some technical assistance," the woman said mildly.

Willow blinked. "You got a broken computer?"

"Something of that nature," the woman agreed.

Rocky snorted. "Right. What's a Companion doing in a dump like this? A computer repair? I don't think so."

A Companion? Willow glanced at the woman and the man with her who stood silently in what she now recognized was a typical bodyguard stance, no matter what century you were in.

The woman appeared to consider, then she said, "It is not--exactly--a computer."

"No, really?" Rocky said sarcastically. "I never would have guessed. What is it, why's it illegal, and how'd you wind up with it?"

"It was a gift from a client," she said crisply. "It is a prototype, one the government is not quite ready for the public to have access to. If I went to a regular business, they would ask difficult questions. You, however, will not."

Rocky stayed silent for a long moment. Willow leaned back in her chair and looked between the two of them, her arms folded as she waited for him to decide. She would never admit to anyone that she did anything like work for him, but he did take the lead.

He finally nodded once and jerked his head towards Willow. "Tell the girl about the job. She'll be taking it."

"Very well," the Companion said with a graceful nod.

Rocky went back to fiddling with the computer on the table. Willow looked at her customer attentively. "What are we looking at?"

"I have the specifications for the piece here," the woman said, taking a disk out of her wide sash--Willow was pretty sure it was a Japanese _obi_. "It is at my home on Osiris."

Rocky glanced up with eyebrow raised then back down at the mini-computer. Willow had no idea where Osiris was, but guessed that it was one of the Core planets. "How do I get there?"

"I will arrange transport if you agree to take the job."

That sounded more than fair. "One way or round trip?"

The look the woman gave her seemed to hold a modicum of respect now. "Round trip, of course."

"Cool."

Willow plugged in the disk and started looking at what she would be fixing. Within moments, she had to fight not to start drooling. This thing was so cool! It was like, computers: the next generation, which was many generations removed from what she used to work with. It had everything she could imagine--well, most everything--and a few things she hadn't even thought about. "Oh, wow. This thing is so neat! Hey--is that an ADR-579?"

"Yes," the woman said, sounding amused.

"Shiny," she murmured, still examining the information. "So--which part isn't working?"

The Companion pointed out the part that had stopped working, and Willow nodded. "I think I can fix this."

"Are you certain?" the woman asked. "It is new."

Willow shrugged, still intent on the schematics. "Computers all have the same basic hardware. Once you have that figured out, you're good to go." _So long as you have some magic to help you out_, she added to herself. But she didn't think she'd need it with this. The fix looked simple.

"Very well. I will arrange for transportation and contact you with the information."

Willow nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the schematics. This thing was so--so _nifty_.

"I do believe you just might lose your new-fangled computer," the bodyguard said with good humor.

That made Willow shift her attention, and she scowled at the man. "Hey! I'm not a thief."

"You work with thieves," the bodyguard said dismissively. "If it walks like a dog…"

"I thought that was a duck," Rocky said absently without looking up from his work.

The bodyguard smiled, showing teeth. "It means the same, either way, thief-man."

"Stop teasing them," the Companion said with a hint of a smile. "They won't want to work with us if you tease."

"You got that right," Willow muttered. She sniffed. "Thief. Hah."

The bodyguard gave her a long look. Apparently, he hadn't liked that. "You are attracted to danger, little one?"

Little one. What was it with these guys? Willow tossed her hair back, recalling something Xander had said once. "I laugh in the face of danger."

The bodyguard scowled. The Companion raised an eyebrow at her, and laughed out loud when Willow added, "And then I hide until it goes away."

A reluctant smile tugged at the bodyguard's face, and the Companion said, "I will contact you with the information. It should be within the next day or so."

"Okay." Willow nodded. "I'll be waiting to hear."

After they had left, Rocky looked at her. "You laugh in the face of danger and then hide until it goes away? What the hells was that?"

"Something a friend said one time," she said with a small smile. "Long time ago."

"Smart friend," Rocky grunted.

"Yeah." Willow sighed, thinking of Xander, Buffy, and the others, and a wave of melancholy swept over her. "He saw things pretty clearly, even when the rest of us didn't."

Rocky grunted again. "Hand me that thing over there."

Shaking off the melancholy, Willow turned to see what he had nodded to, and let out a huge sigh when she saw the mess of tools and wires. "Er--which one, in particular?"

-

The day continued on. They got the computer working again and started on another one. The Companion contacted them and said that transport would be there tomorrow afternoon, no complaints, the ship was better than it looked. This comment, almost an afterthought, did not make Willow feel all warm and fuzzy about this arrangement. But, she philosophized, when dealing with the world of crime, warm and fuzzy didn't normally play a part.

She finished up for the day, waved to Rocky, who was still busy with a project, and headed out onto the crowded streets. The end of the day traffic mingled with the traffic going on night-shift. She stood for a moment, deciding. The Eavesdown docks were only two or three blocks away. She could get dinner, go home. Or she could go to the park a few blocks in the other direction, sit, maybe meditate some, get back in tune with the energy of the world. Her magic here was still not at full capacity, but she had access to more than she did in space or on the other worlds she'd visited before settling down here. So she'd stayed.

She thought for a beat, then decided to go meditate tomorrow morning. She was hungry. Although something was nagging her…oh, yeah. That. Yes, that could wait until tomorrow.

-

Willow ducked out mid-morning the next day, wanting to have time to go do what she needed to do. She should have done it last night, but…well…

She had been here for a while now, visited a number of planets, and there was one thing bothering her that needed answering.

Okay, there were a lot of things, but this was a biggie.

Where were the demons? When the population left Earth, demons would have hitched a ride. She knew well the lengths people went to ignore the presence of a demon, or vampire, so it wouldn't have been too hard for smart demons to stow away. But she hadn't seen hide nor hair (nor scale, tentacle, etc) of any demons.

Was it possible they had all been left behind? For real? She had a hard time believing this. Experience told her that it just wasn't that simple.

Which was why she now sat cross-legged in the middle of the small--and, more importantly, deserted--park with a world map and the powder she would need to reveal any demons living on Persephone. Hopefully, she had enough power to do this on her own.

She spread the map out, took a moment to gather her thoughts, then sprinkled the dust over the map. And then she let out a loud curse.

"I do believe you just accused that map of being a baboon's bottom," a somewhat amused voice remarked.

Willow glanced up at Shepherd Book with a scowl. "Well, it is."

She looked back down at the completely un-lit-up map, scowling still, and sighed. "Dumb sp--Shepherd?"

Her head snapped back up, and she stared at the Shepherd. "What are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Book remarked as he came over. He studied her dusty and somewhat glittery map. "What are you doing?"

"Huh? Oh…" Willow shrugged then hid a wicked smile. "Trying to find demonic activity on Persephone."

"Really?" He cocked his head and studied the young woman. "I wouldn't advise that."

She'd expected a squawk of outrage. Not a calm reaction. She looked up at him. "Why?"

"Because you might find it."

"That would kind of be the whole point?"

"It is inadvisable to invite evil into your home," Book said seriously. "It is very difficult to evict it again."

"Nah, you just do a Revocation of Invitation--oh. Right." Willow sighed. He had reacted to matter-of-factly that she had forgotten for a brief moment that she wasn't at home with people who understood. She was still five hundred years in the future and talking to a Christian preacher about demons and spells. Bad idea.

"Well, apparently Persephone is free of demonic activity, so you can rest assured, Shepherd," she said as she cleaned the spell stuff up and rose to her feet. "Are you still with _Serenity_?"

"I am. We're here to pick up some cargo."

"Illicit cargo?" Willow grinned at his expression as they left the park. "I've learned a thing or two about Captain Reynolds since leaving the ship."

"Only good things, I hope," Mal said briskly, walking towards them. "Shepherd, you seen this computer guru we're supposed to be transporting?"

Willow started. "Computer guru?"

"Yep. Pickin'em up here, drop'em on Osiris." Mal caught sight of her expression. "You know him?"

"Er--I think I _am_ him--uh--her," she admitted sheepishly.

"Uh-huh." Mal looked her over. "You're kidding."

"No." She was a little offended by his disbelieving tone. "I know a thing or two about computers, mister! Why--I got skills! Mad skills!"

"Uh huh." Mal snorted. "Right. Come on, then, Miss 'Mad Skills'. We gotta go."

"I hafta get my stuff," Willow said. "Ten minutes?"

"Eight," he shot back.

As she nodded and hurried off, she heard him mutter, "Before anyone notices we're here."

She got to her make-shift office and was packing her bag when Rocky walked in. "Ship's here."

"Yeah, found'em."

Rocky grinned. "Tell Mal that Badger wants a word when y'all get back."

Willow recalled Mal's expression and said slowly, "I'll tell him. Can't promise he'll listen."

"Oh? Is there a reason he's trying to avoid me?"

Willow glanced around and saw Badger had wandered in, complete with his neat little hat. She swung her pack over her shoulder as she thought about that.

"I expect there is," she decided. At his look, she added, "_I_ don't know what it is."

Badger snorted and nodded, glancing at Rocky. "I knew I liked her. Girl's got attitude. Right then--don't mention it to him, then. Wouldn't want him to 'accidentally' forget, now would we?"

"Guess that depends on which we you're talking about," Willow murmured, and slipped out while Badger started to grill Rocky about a business venture.

Kaylee was walking up the ramp of the ship when Willow arrived, and her face broke into a broad grin. "Willow, hi!"

"Hi Kaylee," Willow said with a smile of her own. "How's it going?"

"Good! So, you're our passenger?"

"Apparently."

Willow followed Kaylee on board, waved to Wash and Zoe, who were talking, and nodded to Mal.

"You're late," he informed her.

Willow checked her watch and let out an exaggerated sigh. "My deepest apologies, Sahib. I'm all of thirty seconds late. Oh, where will I put my face?"

Mal rolled his eyes and yelled, "Wash, get her in the air!"

"Yes, Sahib," Wash snickered.

"And lose the sense of humor," Mal ordered grouchily, heading up the stairs.

The ramp and doors closed. Willow went and put her pack in her dorm room as they left, then stepped out to see what was going on elsewhere.

"Oh. Hello."

Simon had just come out of his room. He looked a little puzzled. "I--hadn't realized we were picking up passengers here."

"Just me," Willow said. "And I think Mal technically classifies me as cargo."

Simon frowned for a moment, then understanding dawned. "Ah. The latest job…to Osiris."

He frowned again. "He classifies you as cargo?"

Willow heard a giggle from behind him. River came out of the room, smiled at Willow, and told her brother, "It was a joke. Saying something in fun or teasing, rather than in earnest." She frowned. "Although, I suspect she was being facetious."

"You're right," Willow agreed. "I was being facetious."

"You shouldn't do that with Simon," River told Willow, sounding very serious. "It hurts his brain."

Simon made a face while Willow tried to hide a grin. "Thank you, River."

"Just looking out for you," River said with a smile for him. She skipped off.

Simon turned to Willow with a shrug and a half smile, the sort that said, 'Well, what are you going to do? She's my sister.'

"She seems to be doing…um…better?" Willow ventured. She did seem a bit more lucid than the last time she'd seen her.

Simon nodded. "She is." He cast Willow a somewhat uncertain look. "Er--thank you, for mentioning. It's nice to know it's not wishful thinking."

"Wishful thinking? About your sister getting better?" Willow waved her hand. "Can't imagine why you'd do that."

The look Simon gave her was even more uncertain than before. "Er…"

"I was teasing," she said, more gently. Her mind flashed back a (relatively to her) few years ago, and she gave him a crooked half smile. "I know how that goes, having someone you care about be less than…sane."

"Oh?" He looked, briefly, uncertain, then sympathetic. "I'm sorry. Do you mind if I ask what…?"

"It--was--trauma induced," Willow said after a fast moment to think. "Some, well, something. I don't know. We got it fixed," she added.

"Oh, did you?" Simon suddenly looked keenly interested. "Trauma induced, you say? Can you say how it was cured?"

_I stuck my fingers in her head and siphoned the sanity back in_. Nope, that probably wouldn't fly. "N-oo, sorry. It was…kinda spontaneous."

Simon nodded with a very small sigh, gave her a half smile, and headed off.

Willow headed for the kitchen, on the basis that if anyone was around to talk to, that's where they would probably be. She was right. Inara and Kaylee were in there, playing a card game of some kind. River was wandering restlessly, eating an apple, while Jayne and Zoe finished up a conversation that had Jayne stomping out. Willow decided not to ask and found a seat near Inara and Kaylee to watch.

No one said anything about her presence. Inara gave her a smile, and after she and Kaylee finished their game, motioned her in while Kaylee asked, "Zoe, want to play?"

"What are you playing?" Zoe asked, pulling up a chair.

"Preferably something I'm familiar with," Willow murmured, earning her a slant-wise look from Inara. Willow smiled brightly. "Anyone ever played Go Fish?"

"No," Kaylee said, curious. "It's a card game?"

"Oh yes." Willow grinned. "And very--er--popular where I'm from."

_Well, it is_, she told herself virtuously as Inara handed her the deck with a gesture to feel free. _Slayer-school, no one could play a decent game of poker._ "Right then. Well, first of all, you try and match up pairs…"

-

The trip to Osiris was far too short for Willow's liking. She enjoyed being on _Serenity_, felt comfortable on board with the crew. Even Mal, pain in the ass that he could be. Wash could be hilarious, Kaylee was so nice…just watching the crew together almost let her forget that she wasn't at home. Just the way they interacted, the comfort level they all had, even with the obvious friction between some, was the same way it had been between her and her friends. It was the only part of this future 'verse that felt familiar.

Unfortunately, all journeys come to an end. They reached Osiris, and Mal brought her down in a shuttle to meet the woman whose computer she was fixing. She had been right--it was a fairly simple job. A fan needed replacing. Apparently, they didn't use fans so much anymore, at least not this type. It was a technology so old that it was new again, something that Willow found highly amusing.

She took her money, said her good-byes and gave her last minute instructions to the Companion on how to keep the technology working, and headed back to the shuttle where Mal waited for her. Several yards from the craft, she felt it. A shiver, not in her body but in her mind, a familiar taste in the back of her mouth, like metal. She stopped, startled, and turned, staring off down the street. What had that been? It was something her body recognized. No, not her body--her magic. She tested it, and it was higher than she'd felt yet. What was it about this world? Then the feeling faded, her magic dropped sharply out of reach, and Willow felt a wrench at its absence. What was going on?

"Willow, let's move," Mal called, impatient.

Willow hesitated, still staring towards the direction the feeling had come from, but after a minute she reluctantly jogged over to the shuttle and got in, before Mal got really impatient. Once they were in the air, he demanded, "What was that about? You just stopped, like you'd been sucker-punched."

She couldn't talk to him about this. He wouldn't get it. Hell, she didn't get it. "I just--remembered something, is all," she murmured. "Sorry."

He grumbled. She tuned him out, trying to figure out what that could have been. Unfortunately, she had no books, no one to ask, no where to start. It was unlikely she would be figuring anything out until she found somewhere to start looking.

They landed on Persephone a few days later. Willow, with some reluctance, said her good-byes, promised Kaylee she'd stop by next time they were in town, and headed down the street.

She wandered through the shopping district, in no hurry. Badger got a wave when she saw him lounging, but had no intention of stopping to chat. He changed that, stepping in front of her. "Willow. I've got another job for you."

Willow stopped and looked him over, her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "Really?" she asked mildly.

"Oh yeah. One of the rich folks round-hereabouts," the little man agreed. "One of them fancy lords, having a bit of computer-strife."

Fancy lord, huh? Well, she had found that you met all sorts on this job. She nodded and asked, "Is he at Rocky's?"

"'E wouldn't be so crass," Badger said with a little sniff. "I have his address, so you just toddle on over and tell him Badger sent you."

"Toddle?" she repeated.

He grinned, touched his hat, and handed her the address without another word before heading back to what she assumed was his vantage point.

The place wasn't far . Willow walked, listening to the sounds of busy streets, felt the wind that was starting to pick up. These last two months had been almost restful in a way. No demons to fight, no Slayers to train, no Council to run. Just play with computers and make sure no one ratted her out to the Alliance. A girl could get used to this sort of life. She had fought demons because demons were there and needed to be fought, but apparently there were no demons anymore. This, she had a hard time believing, but the evidence, or lack thereof, was strong proof. No demons. That meant no fight. No risking of the life and the limb.

_And not a whole lot of direction to my life. Afterlife. After-afterlife. _

She told her logical brain to shut up and enjoy the peace and quiet. That was like asking the universe, "How could it be any worse?" It presented a challenge, and the universe usually accepted.

She found the building and knocked. The door was opened by a butler, who ushered her into a rather grand sitting room. She didn't have time to sit before another man entered. She frowned. He looked vaguely familiar. He was black, well built, and wore a gentle smile that immediately set her hackles up.

"Hello, Miss Rosenberg."

Oh, crap. It was him. The guy from a few months ago, who had found her on Beaumont. What was he doing here?

Willow threw her hand up to blast him into next week, an instant after she felt something pierce her neck. She staggered, one hand coming up to pull out the little feathered dart. She stared at it, then at the man, as he walked towards her.

"I am sorry," he said, that gentle smile still on his face. "This is not the way I would have chosen, but your particular--talents--make it difficult to do it any other way. I'm sure you understand."

Willow grunted, reaching desperately for her magic, but she was cut off from it and, apparently, her equilibrium. She half fell, caught herself on the back of a sofa, and took a swing at the man as he came near. He avoided it easily, one hand closing around her wrist. With the other, he laid two fingers on her neck, checking her pulse, then took hold of her elbow as she started to sink to the floor.

_No!_ Willow raged at her body, screaming at it to fight the drug, to run. But darkness was gathering at the edges of her vision, and she couldn't do any more than glare at the man as she slumped alongside the couch. The last thing she saw before everything went dark was his still disconcertingly gentle smile.

-

Waking up took a bit of effort. The senses returned slowly, like tuning into an old fashioned TV. Boy, it would be really old fashioned five hundred years later, wouldn't it?

She shifted and heard, "Don't move or I'll have to hurt you."

Well, that was friendly. And oddly familiar.

Willow opened her eyes and saw a female standing beside her. Dark hair, dark eyes, tattoo on the upper arm--why'd she look familiar?

Realization struck. Willow scrambled upright, tried to talk, coughed several times, and finally wheezed, "_Faith_?"

Faith nodded once, her face expressionless. She turned and called, "She's up."

"Faith?" Willow repeated hesitantly. "Where are--"

The door behind the dark haired Slayer opened, and Ashwert walked in. Willow fell silent. There was something wrong here. Really wrong.

"Miss Rosenberg," Ashwert said curtly. He nodded to Faith. "That's all. Get out."

"Might not want to be alone with her," Faith drawled. "Being as she's a witch and all."

"If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it," Ashwert snapped. "Leave."

"You're the boss."

Faith rolled her eyes and sauntered out, tossing Willow one final glance she couldn't read.

Ah. That would be what was wrong. Faith was working for the enemy.

Again.

-


	6. Slayers

Disclaimer: Both BtVS and Firefly belong to Joss Whedon. The basic idea for this story came from Yahtzee's _Phoenix Rising_. The idea of mixing these two 'verses in this way is mine.

AN: My deepest apologies for the extended wait, y'all. Semester finals happened, then I lost my internet connection for the winter holidays, then school started again…. Hopefully I can get back to a more or less regular, if less than frequent, schedule.

A Leaf on the Wind

Slayers

Six hours had passed.

They had found a drug that disabled her magic. It also made thinking somewhat difficult, and slowed her reflexes. She actually had to think about more complicated movements, and since thinking was difficult…

The cell they had put her in was small, with just a bed. Across from the bed was the door. It was solid, with a narrow window in it.

_Prisons,_ Willow thought, somewhat muzzily, as she sat on the bed with her head propped up in her hands. _Have not changed much. Guess there are only so many ways to effectively lock someone up. _

Ugh. Her head hurt. It felt like a hangover. Not, of course, that she had much experience with that. Nope, not at all. Not her.

Ugh.

She rested her head against the wall and sighed, her eyes shut. How had she gotten here? Oh yeah--fake job, slow reaction times. She'd gotten slack--she could've been killed had it been a demon rather than a tranq.

The door opened, and a guard said curtly, "Let's go."

"What's up?" Willow asked, a little wearily.

Ashwert stepped into view, his face set in its usual stony expression.

She slouched back. "I'll just stay here, thanks."

"Now," the guard snapped.

Willow considered her options (probably zero) and possible consequences (probably big, or at least uncomfortable) and levered herself to her feet. She dodged away when the guard tried to grab her. "Uh uh."

Ashwert gave her a long look, which she returned seriously, then jerked his head. "Come with me."

She followed, after making certain the guard would keep his hands to himself.

Their destination was another room, this one with a table in it. He gestured. "Sit."

A little wary, she sat.

"Slayer number six tells me you're a witch," he said after seating himself.

"Slayer number six," Willow repeated. "You mean Faith?"

He gave her a piercing look, like the question was unexpected.

"Names are irrelevant," he said finally. "They are soldiers for our cause. Who they were in life is immaterial."

"Oh. Okay." She nodded, trying very hard not to show how much she disliked that statement. Slayers were more than just soldiers--hadn't Buffy proved that? "What cause would that be?"

"Not your concern," he said crisply. "Tell me about this witchcraft."

"If you wait until this drug wears off, I can show you," Willow offered brightly.

"I think not," Ashwert said, his voice as dry as the desert. "Tell me."

Willow folded her arms on the table, studying the man in front of her. He looked the same as the first time she'd seen him--uniform, blue gloves, stony face. Her first impression of him hadn't changed either. She didn't like him. Of course, he could be a perfectly nice person. It was just the resurrecting her, then trying to kill her, then going and kidnapping her that made her not like him. Really, he could just be a big teddy bear.

Yeah, right.

"Here's a funny thing. I've got a question for you," she said. "Why are you doing this? Bringing people back to life--do you know what sort of havoc you're wreaking on the world…er…universe?"

"Do tell."

She felt like smacking her forehead in exasperation. Or maybe just smacking him. "You mean you don't know? You can't _do_ this kind of magic without serious, serious consequences!"

A little half smile crossed his face then was gone as he asked blandly, "And how do you know it was magic?"

"It couldn't have been anything else," Willow said flatly. "You think I've been running around with my fingers in my ears and blinders on my eyes? You don't know where Earth is anymore, so you couldn't have gotten access to bodies. That rules out science. The only option is magic."

"Oh, no, Miss Rosenberg," Ashwert said softly. "We know exactly where Earth is."

Willow opened her mouth then closed it. Her brow knit in a frown. "You--what? You know?"

"Of course." Now he sounded condescendingly amused. "Do you really believe that we would lose track of something as large as a planet?"

Actually, she had wondered about that. "So why doesn't anyone live there?"

"Miss Rosenberg." The guy had the nerve to give her a chiding look. "I thought you said that you had found out about our--migration. Earth's resources were used up because the population grew too large."

"No."

"No?"

Willow shook her head, watching him with a faint frown as she reached the conclusion of a thought that had been simmering in the back of her mind for a while now. "No. That's what you told everyone. That's not the real story. It can't be, otherwise there would still be people on Earth, still be trade with it. There's another reason."

Ashwert leaned back. A pleased look flashed across his face then was gone, replaced by his usual expression. "If there was, you don't think I would tell you, do you? Earth's resources were used up. That is the story--"

"And you're sticking to it, huh?" Willow said sarcastically.

"Pardon?"

"Never mind." She sighed, resting her head in her hands. She missed her magic. She really missed her magic.

"What's with bringing me and Faith back?" she asked the table, then remembered he'd said slayer number six. "And the other five before us, I take it."

"That is not your concern. I believe I've asked you to describe this witchcraft, twice now, in fact."

"And I would think by now that you would have realized I wasn't gonna," she murmured. She was thinking hard, her mind racing as she tried to work out what was going on.

"Yes, you are," Ashwert said calmly. "One way or another."

That didn't sound good.

Willow eased her chair back a few inches, watching him. "Er--no?"

Ashwert nodded to someone behind her. "Yes."

Willow didn't bother to look behind her--that was a sure way to waste time. She threw herself to the side, and _then_ she looked to see the guard in mid-grab. He was still occupied, Ashwert was just rising, and the door was open. She gave a little wave and bolted out the door and down the hall. Back the way they had come would lead to the dead end with her cell, so she headed in the opposite direction.

Doors. There were too many doors. Some had windows, and she had time to glimpse the insides of rooms and offices, but footsteps were coming after her and she didn't have time to do a thorough search that would lead to her exit. She'd have to guess. She hated guessing--if she guessed wrong, she would get caught.

She came upon a door with a bar, the sort that screamed 'fire escape' to those who had attended high school in the twentieth century. So she went through it.

And stepped into a scene so achingly familiar that she stumbled to a halt and just stared, her mouth open in shock.

Several men stood near the walls of the large room she had entered, their gazes intent on the center where four girls sparred on a mat. Another girl prowled along the edge of the mat. She watched just as intently as the men but apparently with more awareness of her surroundings than they, because she noticed Willow about the time the door closed by itself. She drew up short.

Willow slowly straightened as the four on the mat realized they had a visitor and stopped, turning to look at her.

"Oh crap," Willow whispered as the attention of five slayers fixed on her. She took a half step back, her hands carefully out to her sides. "Um. Hi?"

A slayer with braided jet black hair and olive skin shifted forward and, her chin raised, demanded, "Who are you?"

Well, she had an American accent, for all that she looked Greek. Boston, maybe, or New York? Or was that Chicago?

"She is a prisoner," Ashwert said curtly from behind her.

Willow jumped and spun. She hadn't heard him come in. A small sound an instant later made her dodge to one side and just barely miss getting caught by the Greek slayer. "Hey!"

A foot lashed at her head. She ducked and backed away, yelling, "Quit that!"

The girl moved into a stance to kick again, then paused. Willow had a half second to relax, thinking she had decided to back off, when hands grabbed her wrists and held them behind her back. She took a breath to yell and kick when a voice whispered fast in her ear, "Don't, Red. Just chill."

Willow turned her head enough to see dark hair and a profile with a familiar devil-may-care attitude. She relaxed marginally and muttered, "What the hell is going on?"

"Later," the slayer muttered, then raised her voice. "Boss?"

But Ashwert had been distracted by the entrance of another man with blue gloves. Faith shrugged and let Willow go.

Willow cast the occupied Ashwert a glance then turned to glare at Faith. "You're working for the bad guys," she hissed. "Again!"

Faith frowned. "This is the government, ain't it? That's what they said."

"Well…yeah," Willow conceded. "But--they tried to kill me! They're _bad guys_!"

Faith folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. Willow folded her own and matched her look. "Besides," she added. "Mayor Wilkins was government, and look what he turned into."

"What did he turn into?" the Greek looking slayer asked curiously.

Willow glanced around and realized that the girls had gathered around them while Ashwert was busy. She glanced at Faith as she said, "A giant demon-snake."

"Ah."

They nodded with perfect understanding, and one asked, "How did you kill it? I assume you did kill it?"

"Big snake went boom," Faith said, somewhat clipped in tone. "Look, Will, he was the exception. Not the rule."

"Yeah? You sure about that?" Willow asked. "I mean, politicians…"

There were a couple snickers, then another girl asked, looking between them, "So--you two know each other, then?"

"What was your first clue, Jersey?" Faith said, her voice laced with sarcasm. Her eyes never left Willow. "Speakin' of that--what the hell are you doing here, Red?"

"Ask your boss," Willow said, looking around. "Why'd they--with you guys?"

A few girls exchanged glances, then one admitted, "They have not told us that. Not in detail."

"They have no need to, Melissa," another scolded.

Faith and Willow both looked at her, then each other, in a moment of shared understanding.

"Council trained?" Faith asked.

"Council trained," Willow agreed. "Probably."

"Excuse me?" A young black woman bristled with indignation. "And what is the problem with the Council?"

Willow looked at her, then did a double take. She looked at Faith. "She looks familiar."

"Yeah," Faith said, giving her a warning look. "Name's Nikki."

Willow's eyes went wide. "Nikki? As in--Wood?"

"You've heard of me?" the young woman asked, startled.

"Yeah, yeah, weird-ass universe," Faith muttered. "Red, what the hell are you doing on the wrong side of the law?"

"They tried to kill me," Willow reminded her. "They didn't take kindly to my objection to them killing me right after they brought me back."

"They did what when?" Faith demanded. "Damn, girl, what'd you do?"

Willow shrugged. "Wasn't the right person, I think."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ashwert nod to the other blue-hand-dude and turn towards the group of girls with a small scowl.

"He said send an operative," a girl said in a low voice with a glance towards Ashwert. "What is an operative, and why--"

"Shhh." The girl next to her shushed her as Ashwert drew closer.

"You girls are supposed to be practicing," he informed the slayers.

"We were just making sure the prisoner didn't escape," the Greek looking slayer said, all innocence.

Ashwert looked like he didn't believe a word of it. "Your enthusiasm does you credit," he said dryly. "Get back to work."

Five of the slayers moved off. Faith stayed, asking, "What you want done with her, boss?"

Ashwert gave Willow the sort of look he would give a bug on his shoe and said, "Take her back to her cell. I'll deal with her later."

"You're the boss," Faith said. She jerked her head at Willow, giving her a look when she hesitated. "Come on."

Okay…

The two women headed out and down the hall. Willow looked behind her to make certain they were alone then muttered, "So is there a plan or something?"

"Yeah," Faith muttered back. "You play nice with the government folks and I'll see what's going on."

Willow stopped and stared. Faith turned. "What?"

"That's a bad plan," Willow informed her. "That's a very, very bad plan. I can see a lot of flaws with that plan, Faith--bad plan."

"Yeah, well, it's the best one we got right now," Faith replied. "There's no way out of here. You think I didn't look? With your magic on the fritz, it ain't gonna happen."

"Why not?" Willow shot back.

"Because we're on a huge-ass spaceship. Like, the Enterprise, or the Death Star or something."

"Uh--the Death Star was a space station," Willow said absently. She looked around, and missed it when Faith rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. So, come on. 'Til I figure out how to get one of the little space ships, we ain't going anywhere."

"Shuttles," Willow corrected, still absently. She was busy thinking. "Could you get me a computer?"

"A computer?" Faith repeated.

"Yeah." Willow glanced at her. "They're little now--like, notebook sized. Preferably one of the big wigs'? I need to find--some stuff out."

Faith stepped back, her arms crossed, and gave Willow a patient look. "You want to hack into government files."

"Yeah." Willow nodded. "That's right."

There was a beat, then the slayer shrugged. "Business as usual, then. Sure. I'll see what I can find. Now can we go back to your cell before someone gets suspicious and ruins me any chance to go steal something?"

Willow started down the hall, but eyed Faith as they walked. "You know, you sounded just a little too cheerful when you said that."

Faith grinned. "The last couple months have been boring. More boring than prison, and that's hard. It'll be nice to have a little fun."

"Oh, wonderful," Willow muttered, but without rancor. "I'm leading you back to your life of crime."

"Yeah, Red. You're just a bad influence on people," Faith said, completely straight-faced. "You should really work on that, you know."

-


	7. Conversations

Disclaimer: Both BtVS and Firefly belong to Joss Whedon

Disclaimer: Both BtVS and Firefly belong to Joss Whedon. The basic idea for this story came from Yahtzee's _Phoenix Rising_. The idea of mixing these two 'verses in this way is mine.

A Leaf on the Wind

Conversations

_I am in hell. _

Willow stared up at the ceiling from where she lay on her bed.

_Hell is not a demon dimension, or a place of fire and brimstone. Hell is a cold metal cell with nothing to do._

It had been more than a day since Faith had left her here with a promise to bring her a computer. She knew this because the guards had a schedule for meals. They didn't say a word to her, and no one else had visited in the meantime. It was, quite literally, hell.

The sound of her door opening made her surge upright, eager for something to do even if it was trade verbal barbs with Ashwert. As it turned out, that wouldn't be necessary. Nikki Wood and the Greek looking slayer both gave her funny looks as they came in and closed the door. Willow frowned.

"How'd you two get in here?"

"Michaela's good at sneaking around," Nikki said with a nod to the other girl.

"Oh." That would make sense. Slayers were a resourceful lot.

"How'd you know who I was?" Nikki demanded.

Willow stared at her, caught off-guard. "You broke into my cell to ask me _that_?"

"It'll do for a start," Michaela said carelessly. She folded her arms, holding up a piece of wall. "How'd you know her?"

Willow looked between the pair, thinking hard about that, then she shrugged and settled back on her bed with her legs crossed. "I knew your son."

Nikki jerked. "Robin? He--he was all right?"

"Fine," Willow assured her. "Principal of Sunnydale High for a bit. Helped us close the California hellmouth."

"And he survived?"

Willow didn't blame her for the suspicion in her voice. She just nodded. "Oh yeah."

The relief was almost palpable. "What else do you know?"

His relationship with Faith was for Faith to talk about, though Willow wondered how long it had lasted and when Faith had died. "Not much. He helped us out afterwards to rebuild the Council."

"The Council?" Nikki repeated. "_Rebuild_?"

"Hang on, I think I heard about that." Michaela frowned. "Didn't some priest blow it up and every senior Council member in it?"

"Priest is a very…loose interpretation of what he was," Willow said in a dry voice. Memories of that fight flashed through her mind, and she very firmly shut it down. "He was evil. He was also very dead when we were through. I want to know what's up with you guys being brought back from the dead. And me, for that matter."

"Faith was the first," Michaela volunteered. "I was second."

"When are you from?"

"I was called in '56."

Nikki eyed her. "1956?"

"2056."

"Who was third?" Willow asked.

"That Russian chick," Michaela said. "From the late 1800's. And then Nikki here."

"And then?"

Michaela looked at Nikki. "Wasn't it that Chinese girl? From the early 1900's?"

Nikki nodded grimly. At Willow's raised eyebrow, she said, "The same vamp killed her that killed me."

"Spike." Willow nodded, not surprised. Nikki was, though. She stared at Willow.

"You know about him?"

"Did you kill him?" Michaela asked.

She didn't know about Spike? That didn't sound good. "Yeah, I knew him. He helped us out."

"He _what_?"

Both of them stared at her in shock. She explained hastily, "He got a soul. Just like Angel--oh, you probably don't know him either."

"I do," Michaela volunteered. "But--he's the only one, wasn't he?"

"He got a _soul_?" Nikki repeated. "How the hell does a vampire get a soul?"

"Gypsy curse."

Michaela and Willow said it at the same time, and as Michaela grinned, Willow asked, "Did you know him personally?"

"Maudlin fellow," she replied. "He helped out from time to time. My Watcher said he liked to help but didn't like to hang around. Something about loving and losing a Slayer." She frowned suddenly. "It wasn't Faith, was it?"

That brought images to mind that Willow really didn't want in her head. "No! God, no. Faith knew him, but the pair of them--no."

"Who was it, then?" Nikki wanted to know.

"Can we get off Angel's failed love life and back on topic?" Willow asked. "Please? Who else did they call up?"

"Melissa, and then that British girl you and Faith were making fun of earlier," Nikki said.

Willow frowned, shifting a little on the bed. "When was she brought in?"

"Few days ago. Why?"

"Like four or five?"

Michaela nodded, curious. "Yeah, that sounds about right. What's up?"

"I think I felt that," Willow murmured, remembering the surge of familiar magic, the shiver, the taste in her mouth. "I think my magic recognized it."

"Well, you have been brought back to life," Michaela said, a little uncertainly. "Maybe that's why--are you really a witch?"

"Yeah. But if they were calling up slayers, why would I be brought back? I'm a witch, not a slayer. Even magic can't mix that up. Can it?"

"Apparently, it can." Nikki smiled wryly. "Isn't the world of magic wonderful?"

"Who were they aiming for?" Willow looked at them, frowning. "They got Faith, and me--were they aiming for Buffy and it got thrown off?"

"Why would it get thrown off?" Nikki asked, folding her arms.

"Because there were two slayers for a long time, and then there were hundreds." Willow gave her head a shake. "Could it have mixed them up?"

"Wait--hundreds?" Nikki gave her a look. "Are you serious? Did you miss the one girl in all the world routine?"

"We changed that--Michaela, you should know--what?"

Michaela was shaking her head, looking as puzzled as Nikki. "It was just me. There were rumors that for a while, there was an explosion of slayers, but--are you saying it wasn't a rumor?"

"No." Willow couldn't help a little laugh that held absolutely no humor. "No, we called up every slayer that ever could be, every potential. We had to, or the First was going to win."

"First what?" Nikki asked.

"So why didn't they stay called?" Michaela wanted to know.

Willow shook her head, leaning back against the wall. "I don't--they should have. It should have stayed like that. I don't know why it didn't."

-

The two slayers left not long after to avoid being seen by a guard. Willow watched the door close then flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling again. This time, though, she wasn't brooding. This time, her mind was in overdrive trying to figure out what went wrong with the spell. Her spell. It had been perfect. All the slayers had been called, and for several years they continued to be called as they came of age. So what had gone wrong?

With no Council to talk to, at least no Council that was letting its presence be known, she had no idea who the current slayer was, if there even _was_ a current slayer. There had to be a current slayer. Thousands of years of slayerdom didn't go poof over the course of three or four centuries. The Watchers wouldn't let that happen. Hell, Angel wouldn't let that happen.

_If he's still around. _

_Shut up._

Oh, God she wanted to talk to Xander, or Giles, or Buffy, or Dawn, or _someone_ who know how this gig worked and could help her figure this out. Or at least crack silly jokes while she talked it out aloud.

The door opened and a guard came in with a tray. She glanced at him without getting up as he set the tray down on the floor. Then she frowned at the tray, and her gaze flew to the guard's face. He was young, and he went bright red when he saw her staring at him. Or, more accurately, at the little bit of lipstick that he had missed on his face. He hurried out. Willow grinned. Apparently, Faith was busy. She'd intended to ask Nikki and Michaela where she was, but she'd gotten a little sidetracked. So, it seemed, had Faith.

She rolled off the bed, slid the plate of what could probably be considered food in some universes onto the floor, and returned to the bed with the little computer that had been hidden underneath. Now it was time for some fun. A few taps and it was up and running. A few more, and Willow laughed out loud.

_Go Faith_. She had actually managed to get her hands on Ashwert's personal computer. _Let's give it up for the ex-con. _

Ignoring the password protected files for the moment, Willow browsed through the computer, getting the lay of the land so to speak. Even the non-protected files were somewhat disconcerting. Messages, drafted laws, personnel files, and notes that all pointed to a totalitarian regime. Not that she hadn't already guessed that, but seeing definite proof--well, she was an American. She had a definite affinity for democracy.

Using some of the tricks Rocky had taught her along with some of her own, she hacked into his protected files. The first one was about some medical experiment. She was interested, so she read a little further. Soon, she kinda wished she hadn't. Behavior modification was one thing. Neural stripping was another. She wasn't completely certain what that meant, but it didn't take much to get the gist. There was one subject mentioned several times as a favorite, the best. A smile curved Willow's lips when she saw the note that the subject had escaped. Good for them.

The second file was about the slayers.

"Oh wow," she murmured, reading. "Damn, they had reached for Buffy and missed."

It didn't say much, which was a disappointment after she spent all of thirty seconds valiantly struggling against his passcode. Just that they intended to resurrect seven slayers, with the preferred seven and seven alternates listed. Melissa had been an alternate. So had the British girl, Elsie.

Faith was first on the list as a prime target. So was Buffy. So were Nikki and the girl from China. What did they all have in common? She followed the link marked WTB and found their files on Spike. The deadliest vampire of them all, it said. Willow winced. Somehow, they had missed the message about Angelus. So, too, had they missed the fact that Spike had not tried to kill Faith, and had only tried to kill Buffy for a couple years. Did history really say that Buffy and Faith were the best slayers ever?

She checked out their files, and yes indeed, it did. Right there in black and white. They were scanty files, but it was right there. At least, it was there for Buffy. For Faith, the big bolded, highlighted, and underlined note was that she was a killer. Not a slayer. A killer.

_That's why she was first_.

Willow stared at the screen, trying to figure it out. Why had the government called up girls who could kill, and had prioritized the one who had killed people over the others? What did they have planned?

Where was the current slayer? They didn't have her anywhere in the slayer files. In fact, they didn't mention a current slayer in the files. Then she found what she was looking for, in a small little blurb at the end of the main file on the slayers.

'_Records of a slayer's existence stop after the exodus from Earth. The only conclusion we can come to is that leaving the planet somehow disrupted the magic that brings the slayer into being.'_

The click of the door opening made Willow jump, and she shoved the computer under her covers just before Ashwert entered. He crooked a finger. "Come with me."

She followed, too preoccupied to give him any trouble. The slayer line had ended. That's what it had said. The slayer line had ended. No more slayers. No more Watcher's Council. No one for her to turn to. She was on her own. No more slayers.

Ashwert gestured for her to precede him into a room. She did, and immediately found herself held captive by two guards. "Hey!"

They ignored her protests, taking her to a chair and strapping her wrists and ankles to it before they stepped back. She glared at Ashwert, forgetting about the lack of a current slayer in favor of worrying about her lack of freedom. "What the hell?"

He sat down with a cold smile on his face. "We don't need a repeat of the last time, now do we?"

"That's a matter of opinion!"

"Yes," he agreed. "Fortunately for me, my opinion is the only one that matters. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. I believe you were going to tell me about witchcraft."

"No," Willow said carefully. "I actually think I was very specifically _not_ telling you about witchcraft."

"Is that what you were doing?"

"Yes, I think so," she agreed.

"Hmm." He leaned back, studying her. "We found my computer in your room. I have a suspicion of who gave it to you. Don't worry. She's being suitably punished."

_Wonderful._ Hoping Faith was all right, Willow just glared at him.

"Tell me about your witchcraft."

"If I wiggle my nose, I can turn you into a toad."

"I very much doubt that," he remarked, looking unamused. "If you could, you would have done so already."

Yeah, whatever. Willow turned her concentration to the straps binding her wrists. Unfortunately, these people had the art of keeping people captive down pat.

"Hey, tell you what," she said brightly. "What if you untie me and then I'll tell you everything you want to know about witchcraft. How's that sound?"

"I think you will tell me everything I want to know about witchcraft in either case," Ashwert replied. "How does that old saying go? There is more than one way to skin a cat. So to speak."

He leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. "Can slayers do magic?"

There had to be a way out of these restraints. Didn't the movies make that clear? There was always a loose thread or something. She continued to work at them as she tried to come up with a suitably snarky answer for that. "Uh--well, there's this thing where they do the hokey-pokey and shake a gourd and make the first Slayer appear. How's that for magic?"

He leaned forward a little more, his eyes glowing. "And what is the hokey-pokey?"

"Big mystical ritual," she said, trying not to grit her teeth as she strained against the restraints. "Very important among the slayerdom. And then there's the scoobies."

"What are they?"

"Little helpers that run around getting important stuff. Like donuts."

His face suddenly froze, the eager expression wiped off to be replaced with a look somewhat akin to the look on Anya's face when being made to part with money. He leaned back.

"I suspect you are making a mockery of me, Miss Rosenberg," he said in a cold voice.

"Well, you make it so easy."

He glared. She gave that helpless little shrug that seemed to work for so many people. It didn't work for her.

"We have ways of extracting the information we want," Ashwert said. His face hadn't unfrozen, and with his hands flat on the table, Willow began to suspect she had made him just a little angry. "It will be easier on you if you simply tell us before we take it."

"You have ways, huh?" Biting her lip, Willow made a show of thinking over what he had said, tilted her head from side to side, stared up at the ceiling, made calculations under her breath, all the things people do when they're pretending to consider the offer or threat presented to them. Then she smiled sweetly and leaned forward. "Mr. Ashwert, I think I do have something to tell you."

He leaned forward a little as well, looking pleased. "What is it?"

Her sweet smile still in place, she said, "Go to hell."

For a second, he didn't react. Then, slowly, his face reverted back to its impression of an ice man, and he leaned back in his chair again.

"Very well. Smith." He gestured to someone behind her.

Willow glanced over her shoulder then at Ashwert. "That wouldn't be Agent Smith, would it?"

He ignored her, nodding to whoever it was behind her. "Give her the drug."

Not more drugs. Willow made a face when Smith injected her in the arm. _Well, this sucks._

-

Willow's eyes snapped open, and she stared up at the ceiling for a moment before she realized that she was in her cell. How she had gotten from the chair to her cell, she wasn't certain. She didn't remember passing out. She blinked. Actually, she didn't remember anything after the guy injected her. What had he given her?

"Good. You are awake."

The Russian slayer's voice made Willow sit bolt upright and immediately regret that move when her head threatened to split in two. She doubled over with a soft noise, holding her head. The pain ebbed, and she managed to look over at the slayer, who was seated on the floor with her back against the wall.

"The drugs they give are not nice," the slayer observed. "I am glad they do not give us drugs."

"What are you doing here?" Willow mumbled.

"I was told to ensure that you woke up. That is all."

"Glad they care," she muttered, flopping back onto her pillow.

"I was not told by the men in charge," the girl remarked. "I was told by Faith, and by Nikki."

A glance showed the girl was smiling crookedly.

"Faith thinks she is our leader, yes? And Nikki her second."

"Do you have a problem with that?" Willow asked, curious despite her throbbing headache.

The Russian girl shrugged as she rose fluidly to her feet. "In a team of seven, there must be a leader. We are told Faith is accustomed to being with more than one slayer. She is also the oldest and the first brought back. She is a better leader than the men in charge. I follow her."

She gave Willow a brief nod and left, closing the door behind her. Willow laid her head back, staring up at the ceiling. When that proved painful, she covered her eyes with her arm. So at least two of the slayers followed Faith. That was good to know. Michaela probably followed her too, based on her interaction with Nikki. That was four out of seven she was pretty certain about. That was a good number.

Her thinking reserves used up for the time being, Willow began to drift off, just as a thought seared through her brain, sending it spinning.

_Where was the scythe?_

-


	8. Safe Harbor

Disclaimer: Both BtVS and Firefly belong to Joss Whedon

Disclaimer: Both BtVS and Firefly belong to Joss Whedon. The basic idea for this story came from Yahtzee's _Phoenix Rising_. The idea of mixing these two 'verses in this way is mine.

A Leaf on the Wind

Safe Harbor

"Jayne! Hurry up and get that cargo loaded," Mal called. "I want to get off this rock."

"If you'd help a little," Jayne grumbled, but got back to getting the cargo loaded off the mule. He had to agree with Mal; this backwater planet wasn't the best place to hang around.

Mal made sure Jayne was doing as ordered then strode onto his ship, looking around. "Where's the doc?"

Kaylee looked up from whatever she was looking at up on the stairs. "I think he went to find River."

Mal paused, his hand on the railing. "Why would he be looking for River?"

"Because he doesn't know where she is?"

He shook his head, exasperated. "You'd think the girl would be over this wandering off phase, now wouldn't you? Zoe!"

"Yeah Captain?" Zoe poked her head out of a doorway, looking expectant.

"Doc have a radio with him or anything, or did he just take off?"

She just gave him a look, and he muttered a few choice swear words. "Man better get back soon. I ain't waiting all day for them."

-

"River? River!"

Simon finally caught up with his sister after nearly ten minutes of searching through the woods surrounding the ship, annoyed and ready to get back. "What are you doing?"

River glanced back at him but didn't stop moving.

"River!"

Jogging up to her, he reached for her arm to stop her movement just as she stopped on her own.

"Thank you!"

"Shh," she ordered, an intent listening expression on her face. "Can you hear it?"

"Hear _wha_--"

He stopped as the sound reached his ears as well, a soft whimpering that made him frown in trying to place it. A wounded animal? Or…

She strode off in the direction of the sound, and he followed without comment. When they rounded a large tree and found what they were looking for, Simon's face tightened. The red-haired woman curled up in the roots of the ancient-looking tree looked to be in bad shape and was obviously trying to hide. She didn't look up at their arrival.

"River, how did you--"

"I heard her," River said softly, looking down at the woman. She knelt beside her, brushed her hair back. The woman shrank back even as she raised her head enough to look. Startled, River asked, "Willow?"

Simon dropped down beside his sister. "My God--you're right. Willow, what happened? What are you doing out here?"

Willow's eyes were blank, no recognition in them at all. She looked exhausted, pale, and not particularly well, which was odd for the standard issue hospital clothes she wore. When Simon reached for her, she pulled back, shaking her head.

"Willow?" he asked, a little cautiously. "Can you stand?"

She stared at him blankly.

"Can you stand up?"

He moved slowly and, after another head shake from her, managed to slide his hand under her elbow and help her to her feet. She rose without much resistance and stood still once upright, shivering a little. He gave her a professional once over, comparing it to what he remembered of the woman, and didn't like what he saw. "Good God--what happened?"

She didn't answer, not that he expected her to. She appeared to be in a state of shock of some sort or another and not particularly responsive. He needed to get her back to the ship. With him on one side and River on the other, they managed to half carry, half walk her back towards the ship, with her putting up a weak resistance.

Encouragement in her voice, River said, "Come on, Willow. _Serenity's_ not too far."

"I don't think she'll understand that," Simon informed his sister, right about the same time a shudder ran through Willow's body.

"_Serenity_?" she mumbled.

"It's just up here," River agreed. "Kaylee'll be glad to see you."

"_Serenity_…"

"There you are."

Inara turned towards them as they came out of the tree-line, looking a little relieved. "Mal sent me to find--_wuh de ma_, what happened?"

"We're not really sure at the moment," Simon replied, thankful that Willow had managed to balance herself on her own two feet and was walking somewhat normally now, if a little drunkenly. He let River guide her back to the ship, but stayed close as he told Inara, "We found her in the woods."

"What were you doing in the woods?"

He just nodded towards River, and understanding crossed Inara's face. "Ah."

Mal strode up, his expression going from annoyed to confused as he took in the scene. "_Tyen shiao-duh_--what is this?"

"It's Willow," Inara said.

Blank look from Mal.

"The computer fixer?" Inara tried.

"I believe you classified her as cargo a few months ago," Simon supplied. "We took her to Osiris and then back to Persephone."

"Oh! That computer fixer." Mal frowned at Willow as River helped her up the ramp of the ship. "What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know yet."

"And you're bringing her on my ship?"

Simon gave Mal the glare that he tended to reserve just for the annoying captain. "She's hurt, and this world isn't exactly the safest place for her to be when she's injured and helpless."

"Yeah, but what if she's got a—disease—or people looking for her—" Mal watched as his protests were ignored. "_Gorram _it, Doc, I don't need another fugitive!"

As the group made their way to the infirmary, Inara asked, "Is she a fugitive?"

"I don't know and I really don't care at the moment," Simon replied, hurrying into his infirmary. "River, get her on the table."

Moving a lot slower than Simon and Inara, River and Willow made their way to the doorway into the infirmary. Not one step in, Willow seemed to come to a little bit, looked around, and stopped dead.

"Willow?" River tried to urge her forward. "Come on."

"No." Willow began backing up, shaking her head. "No!"

"Uh—Simon?"

"What?" Simon turned away from the cabinets, saw what was going on, and set the supplies he had pulled out onto the small table by the be. He walked cautiously towards the pair while Inara watched with concern.

"Willow? Come inside so I can see if you're all right," he said. His voice was the soothing one that had worked on his sister for so long, but it didn't seem to have the same effect on his newest patient.

"No more drugs. No more, not again."

"Problem, Doc?"

Mal blinked when Willow jumped like she'd been stung and spun around to face him where he stood a few feet away. She took a step back, looked over her shoulder at the infirmary, and stopped.

Moving slowly in an attempt not to spook her more than she already was, Simon took a few steps to the side as he said, "Mal, come forward a little."

"You sure that's wise, Doc?" Mal asked. His attention was on the woman in front of him who, despite the fact that she was wobbling on her feet and looked barely able to do that, also looked like she was ready to at least try to damage someone if they got too close. He didn't particularly want to be that someone.

"I just need her inside the doorway," Simon said.

"No." River spoke up suddenly, shaking her head at her brother. "No, that's a bad idea."

"What is?" Mal demanded.

"Trapping her. Especially trapping her in here."

"Are you sure telling the not so sane looking girl about the plan is such a good idea?" Mal wanted to know, then noticed River's intent look directed at Willow. "What?"

"She's not hearing what we're saying," the girl said softly. "She's too trapped in her own head right now."

Cautious but concerned, Inara took a few slow steps closer to River and Willow, asking in a low voice, "Can you read that specifically?"

"It's not specific," River murmured. "Very, very general."

Simon looked from his patient to his sister and demanded, "So what do we do?"

River looked troubled. "I'm not sure."

"Well, we gotta do something," Mal pointed out. "I ain't standing here all day, and we need to take off in a few minutes. Jayne's nearly finished getting everything in the hold."

Zoe chose that moment to walk up, taking in the group as she said, "Captain, we're ready to get her in the air. What's—going on?"

Mal looked at Simon, who looked indecisive, then at River, who was busy looking troubled, then at Willow, who appeared to have gotten the shakes, and shook his head. "Zoe, stand here and make sure she doesn't bolt for regions elsewhere. I'll get the ship in the air. If that's okay with you, Doc?"

"That's fine."

"Great."

As Mal strode off, Zoe took his place, eyeing everybody. "Why's she look familiar?"

"It's Willow," Inara said. "She's been on board several times."

"Ah." Zoe nodded. "Right. And why does she look ready to take a gun to everyone?"

"She's scared," River said, a hint of a frown on her face.

She stepped forward, moving closer to Willow. The redhead eased back a step just as slowly as River had moved towards her, her eyes focused on the younger girl.

"River," Simon cautioned. He could see the change in his patient, a waiting tension that hadn't been there before. He didn't want his sister in the line of fire.

River didn't seem to either notice or care, her focus just as intent on Willow. She eased forward another step, pushing Willow back.

"River," Zoe warned, seeing Willow shift to a stance more suited for attacking than running, seeing her hands curl into fists. "Probably not a good idea."

"I think you're going to need to sedate her," River said without taking her eyes off the other woman. When she got no response, her gaze shifted to her brother. "Simon."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't, something bad is going to happen."

"Can you be more specific?" Zoe asked.

Willow backed up another step, so that she was well into the infirmary and she had Simon in her view as well as River, and her eyes narrowed.

"Inara, hand me that syringe," Simon said slowly as Willow's body tensed even more.

When Inara moved, Willow spun towards her with a shout, flinging her hand up. Zoe dove, tackling the young woman, just as the small cart on which the syringe that Simon wanted lay went crashing into the wall.

Everyone in the room froze, including Willow, who stared at the overturned cart with open-mouthed shock from where she lay pinned on the floor by Zoe. No one seemed to want to move, to risk starting anything.

"It's back?"

Willow's hoarse whisper broke the silence. Everyone eyed her cautiously, but she didn't look ready to attack anyone anymore. She continued to stare at the cart, apparently stunned by what had happened. "It's—it's back?"

"What's back?" Simon asked as he knelt beside her and Zoe, a little wary but still intent on giving her a proper examination. She didn't protest as he checked her pulse and shone in a light in her eyes, still pinned face down. He nodded to Zoe. "Can you sit her up?"

Holding Willow still, Zoe levered her to a sitting position. Willow didn't offer any resistance, staring still at the cart.

"It looks like that surprised her more than it surprised us," Inara said.

River nodded, asking, "Willow?"

Willow's eyes focused suddenly on River, making Simon pause. Then she blinked, frowned, and looked at Simon. "Uh—"

She looked over her shoulder at Zoe, gave a light, experimental tug against the woman's competent hold, then looked back at Simon. "Uh?"

"Do you know where you are?" Simon asked, checking her pupil reactions again.

"Held captive by the resident Amazon warrior?" Willow offered.

"Do you know what ship it is?" he asked, continuing his examination.

"Uh—" Willow looked around the infirmary, then noticed River and Inara. Both Zoe and Simon felt her relax considerably. "_Serenity_."

"And who I am?"

Now, she frowned. "Simon, right?"

"That would be correct. Do you know what day it is?"

"Uh…no."

"What month?"

"Uh-uh."

"What planet you were on?"

That got him a blank look. "I was on a planet? Thought I was on a spaceship."

He sat back, looking her over. "You are currently on a spaceship. You were on a planet. Do you remember which one?"

"I was on a spaceship," she said patiently. "Then, apparently, I wound up on a planet, and now I'm on a spaceship again."

"Oh."

"You don't remember being on the planet?" Inara asked.

"No." Willow shook her head as a pained expression crossed her face. "I don't—remember a whole lot about much since…"

"Since when?" Zoe asked when she trailed off.

"Since a day or two after the last time I saw you guys, actually." Willow tried to brush her hair out of her face and remembered she was still being held captive. She looked over her shoulder. "Hey, here's a whacky idea. How about you let me go?"

Zoe gave her a look.

"I promise not to do anything crazy. Honest."

Zoe glanced at the others then released her, rising smoothly to her feet. Willow rubbed her wrists. "Thanks. So how'd I get here?"

"We found you on the planet we just left," Simon said. "Did you say you don't remember between now and when you last saw us?"

"Uh—pretty much, yeah. Why?"

"That was nearly two months ago," Inara said, sounding startled.

"Oh."

Using the bed as a support, Willow levered herself to her feet and promptly sat down hard on the bed. "Ow."

"Did you hurt yourself?" Simon asked worriedly.

"Not—no." Willow looked at everyone, her brow knit in a frown. "So—it's been almost two months since—crap."

A thought crossed her mind, and she yanked the sleeves of her shirt up to check her arms. "What'd they do to me?"

"They?" Simon asked cautiously.

"The Alliance, numbskull. Your totalitarian-freaking-government who thinks they can do whatever they want."

Simon, Zoe, and Inara exchanged looks, which Willow caught. "What? What is it?"

"Our government?" River asked.

Willow's eyes flicked to her then back to the other three. "Where are we headed?"

Before anyone could answer, Mal strode in, looking her up and down. "Well, you look better. Not in the mood to kill anyone anymore, I hope?"

"Depends on if I get my question answered. Where are we headed?"

"Persephone," he said. "We got cargo to off-load."

She looked extremely wary. "What cargo?"

"Odds and ends." Mal noticed the overturned cart. "Did you do that?"

Willow glanced at the cart as well, biting her lip. "Um…"

"Yes," River said.

Willow shot her a look, which made Simon scowl.

"How?" Zoe demanded. "She never touched it."

"I'm not sure." River moved a little closer to Willow, frowning a little in concentration. "It's not telekinesis, exactly."

"If that even exists," Simon added.

River glanced at him. "I'm a reader, remember? Don't discount it yet."

She looked back at Willow, who stared at her for a long moment before she stared at Simon. "She actually sounds coherent."

"She's better now," he replied.

"When did this happen?"

"Few weeks ago," Mal said, his voice clipped. "River, are you saying—"

"Yes." She glanced at him then at Willow. "She did it. I'm just not certain how."

"Wonderful."

"You're not helping," Willow informed the girl, who just smiled.

"So is the Alliance after you or not?" Zoe asked, bringing the possible ensuing discussion to a grinding halt and pissing off Mal in the process. He glared.

"Alliance?"

"I don't know," Willow snapped, with an evil glare for Zoe. "I don't know who cut me loose. Could be they were done with me. I dunno."

River told Mal, "Their regime is weakened, remember? Unless she is very important to them, they probably won't have the resources to come after her, if it wasn't their decision to let her go."

"Watch it be my luck that she's important," Mal growled.

"She's a computer hacker," Zoe pointed out.

"Who also can apparently move things without touching them," Mal finished. "I'd say that could rank pretty important."

"There's no way—it's physically impossible," Simon argued. "Maybe she threw something at it."

"There's nothing there that could have been thrown," Zoe said in a clipped voice. "Doc, I don't like it anymore than you do, but sometimes things happen that don't fall in line with science. Like your sister, for example."

Simon's gaze darted to Willow then back at Zoe, and he scowled.

Willow, wanting to avert what looked like an impending explosion and avert a very loud growl from her stomach, spoke up. "Hey, got anything to eat?"

Everyone stared at her, except for Inara, who stepped up. "Might I suggest we continue this conversation later? I expect Willow wants to get cleaned up as well."

"That would be good," Willow agreed.

"Fine." Mal's voice was clipped. "But when you're done with that, I want to know what the hell is going on."

Willow slid off the bed, took a second to regain her balance, then looked at Mal.

"You know what I know, Captain," she said seriously. "I don't know why they took me. And I don't know how I got away. And I don't remember much of what happened to me while I was there. So…I'm pretty much as in the dark about all this as you are."

He looked her over, his face tight. Finally, he nodded. "I doubt that, but fine. When we reach Persephone—"

"I'm gone," she assured him. "I don't want to cause any trouble."

He nodded, and she and Inara left the room.

Inara gave her a sideways look as they walked. "You know more than you're saying, don't you?"

Willow shrugged.

"You said 'it's back'. What's back?"

She shrugged again.

"Willow." Inara stopped and faced the other woman. "Mal will help, if you tell him what's going on. He's not nearly as—"

"Prickly?" Willow suggested.

"As he seems." Inara looked at her seriously. "If they're exploiting you—"

"Where are we headed?" Willow interrupted. She saw Inara's expression and sighed. "The situation is very—complicated. I don't want to drag you guys into it."

Her face tight, Inara said, "Just a few weeks ago, we went up against the Alliance to let everyone know that they had killed the majority of a planet and turn the survivors into Reavers because they wanted to play God. In that battle, we lost people. We don't have a problem fighting, if the cause is important enough."

Silence stretched, then Willow asked, softly, "Who did you lose?"

"A lot of people who have helped us in the past. Shepherd Book. Wash."

Willow looked away. "I'm sorry."

"Mal and Zoe are still soldiers," Inara said. "And the rest of us aren't half bad. If the Alliance is planning something else, something else that's going to hurt people—"

"It's not your fight," Willow said flatly to the floor.

"The hell it isn't!"

Startled, she raised her head to look at the woman.

"It is our fight, if we're going to keep them from killing another planet. Their regime is weakened, but they're still there, and they'll be looking to regain that power back. Tell us what's going on. We can help."

For a split second, Willow considered it. Considered telling Inara, Mal, and the rest of the crew what was going on. About the slayers, and being brought back from the dead, and being a witch. Then she dismissed it. They would think she was insane. Not only that, if Faith and some of the others went against the Alliance, it would be slayer against slayer. If not, it would be her against slayers. Normal people didn't have a chance against slayers. She needed to find out what the Alliance's reason for bringing them back was, and doing that would be dangerous now that they knew about her. She didn't remember much, but she remembered drugs, and questions—and answers. Lots and lots of answers from her. She didn't remember what they were, but she remembered giving them information like Xander gave corny jokes. So it was a safe assumption they knew more than she wanted them to.

Maybe Persephone wasn't the best place for her to be.

She looked at Inara, who was waiting expectantly, and shrugged. "I'm not planning on fighting anyone. I just want them to leave me alone."

"_Jien tah-duh guay."_ Inara shook her head, looking somewhat disgusted. "Come. You still need to clean up and get something to eat." She cast Willow a look over her shoulder as she strode off, adding, "Perhaps then you'll be ready to talk sense."

_I am talking sense,_ Willow thought, somewhat gloomily, as she followed Inara. _I'm trying to keep you guys alive._

-


	9. Friends

Disclaimer: Both BtVS and Firefly belong to Joss Whedon

Disclaimer: Both BtVS and Firefly belong to Joss Whedon. The basic idea for this story came from Yahtzee's _Phoenix Rising_. The idea of mixing these two 'verses in this way is mine.

A Leaf on the Wind

Friends 

"Ah, Persephone, how I love thee," Willow sighed, looking at the docks from the ramp of _Serenity_. "Let me count the ways--oh wait. There aren't any."

"Aw, Persephone ain't that bad," Jayne said as he passed by her on his way down the ramp.

"Says the mercenary," she said dryly.

"You could stay on board," Kaylee offered from where she and Simon stood a few yards away. Willow glanced at her, at Inara, who stood at the top of the stairs, then back at Kaylee as she said, "No. Thanks. And no fair siccing Kaylee on me with the puppy dog eyes, either, Inara."

"It was worth a try," Inara replied as she made her way down. She looked at Willow seriously. "You really should stay. If they found you here once, they'll find you here again."

"That would be why I don't intend to stay here," Willow informed her.

A worried look crossed Kaylee's face. "Where you goin'?"

"I don't know." Willow caught Kaylee's look and smiled reassuringly. "I'll be all right. They caught me by surprise last time. That won't happen again."

"You know that's not true," Inara snapped, making Kaylee and Simon look at her in surprise. "That's the essence of surprise--you don't see it coming."

Kaylee and Simon exchanged worried looks.

"'Nara, you okay?" Kaylee asked cautiously. "I thought only the captain could make you this mad."

"Add me to the list," Willow said with a glance at Inara, who just shook her head in exasperation. "She thinks I'm an idiot."

"Yes, I do," Inara said forcefully. "You are being a complete idiot."

"Be--cause she's getting off at Persephone?" Simon asked, sounding puzzled.

"Because she's refusing to let anyone help her with whatever this situation is!"

"I never said that," Willow protested. "I just don't want you guys helping."

"Why not?" Kaylee demanded. "You don't think we can handle things? We handle things just fine."

Willow shook her head, turning towards the ramp and the outside world. "Don't gang up on me, guys. It's what she wants."

"Well, she may be right," Simon pointed out. He glanced at Inara then at Willow's back. "We have, on occasion, helped people out."

Willow looked over her shoulder at them, a small smile on her face. "Not this kind. I appreciate it, guys, I really do. But this is something I can handle."

"How?"

"First order of business is to see if a friend of mine is still around," she said. "Maybe two."

"Friend? What friend?" Inara asked.

"You probably haven't--"

Inara gave her a look. "I'm a Companion. We get around. What friend?"

Willow hesitated, watching her carefully. Then she said, "His name's Angel."

"Angel what?" Simon asked.

"Just Angel," Willow said, still watching Inara. "Tall, dark, and broody--or at least, he was still broody the last time I saw him. He might have changed. I doubt it."

"What's he do?" Kaylee asked curiously.

Willow glanced at her then back at Inara. "He helps people."

In the space of that glance, Inara had found a sheet of paper and a pen and was scribbling something down. She handed it to her, still eyeing Willow as carefully as Willow had eyed her. "Sihnon has the Guild Academy."

"Wait--you know this guy?" Kaylee asked, shocked.

"I think so. Not personally, but--"

"Is he cute?" Kaylee asked.

"Hey!" Simon elbowed her gently and got an elbow in return.

"Relax, silly," she laughed. "Strictly curiosity."

"You could at least wait until I'm not in the room."

"This isn't a room," she informed him. "It's a cargo bay."

"Talk to them," Inara told Willow. "They may know who you're looking for."

Willow glanced at the paper then pocketed it, smiling wryly. "You are just determined to help, aren't you?'

Inara just smiled a little then turned and headed for the stairs. Willow said good-bye to Kaylee and Simon and turned to head out herself, only to find River standing in front of her.

"You were going to leave without saying good-bye?" the girl asked.

"I couldn't find you," Willow said blandly.

"That's because I was waiting here."

"Well, there you go." She hesitated, made sure Simon and Kaylee were otherwise occupied, then said in a low voice, "Stop telling them about me."

"No." River's voice was just as low.

"Why not?" Willow demanded.

"Because they're going to need to know someday," she said, very matter-of-factly.

A little exasperated, Willow informed her, "If that day comes, _then_ you can tell them all about me. But until then, stop. They're going to ask questions, and they're going to think I'm crazier than you were."

"You're going to need their help. Our help."

"I don't need your help, River," Willow assured her. "You're a kid."

A strange smile crossed River's face. "You're used to girls my age fighting. I'm almost as good as they are."

"No, trust me, that's impossible."

"Improbable, but not impossible. But I'll stop telling them about you unless they ask specifically. You're probably right." She frowned a little. "Shepherd Book is probably the only one who might have believed that you were resurrected from the dead."

"Okay, stop that!" Willow glared at her. "How can you know that?"

"I'm a reader," River said patiently.

"Yeah, but you also act like you've got precognition."

"Sometimes I see things," she agreed. "Sometimes they happen, sometimes not. You need to go."

"Huh?"

River turned and nodded to a pair of uniformed officers making their way through the crowd. "If they're not looking for you now, they will be soon."

She turned and went back inside without saying good-bye. Willow just shook her head. Having a reader around was certainly proving to be difficult, even if she was apparently sane. Maybe because she was now sane. People listened to her. As much as she liked _Serenity_, she was kind of glad to be leaving right now. River knew too much, Mal obviously didn't want her around, and Inara--there was something off about Inara. For a Companion, geisha, courtesan, what have you, she certainly knew a lot about things not generally associated with that job.

First stop: Badger.

When Willow walked into his 'office', Badger greeted her with a smile. "Well, hello there. Haven't seen you around for a while."

The thought of hurting him--badly--was very appealing, but she was more interested in getting information. Badger hadn't set her up on purpose, she was pretty certain. She had made him and Rocky too much money.

"Who contacted you about that job you sent me on?" she asked, stopping in front of his desk with her arms folded.

"No name, just an address." He cocked his head. "Why?"

"It was a set-up," she said dryly.

He frowned. "Was it, now? That wasn't very nice of them, now was it?"

"No," she agreed.

"Who was it?"

She just smiled. If he found out the Alliance had wanted her, she would be trussed up and handed over to them before she could say hacker, money or no money. The Alliance paid more. "Mean people."

He stared at her. "Mean people."

"Yeah. How'd they contact you?"

"They sent me a wave. No visual." His gaze swept over her. "Doesn't look like it went well for you, love."

"No."

"My sympathies. What are you doing back here?"

He looked expectant. She sighed and backed up a step, ready to leave. "Following a dead end."

"Whoa, hold your horses, mate," he called as she started to walk out. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I've got someone to find," she said without looking back.

"No, love," he said as one of his people blocked the doorway. "That's not how this works."

Great. With a huge sigh, she turned to face him, letting him see how annoyed she was at the delay. He had come around his desk and now sauntered towards her.

"You work for me, remember?"

"Contract," she reminded him. "And that got dissolved when you sent me into an ambush."

He grinned. "I don't think so."

He gestured to one of his boys. Willow uncrossed her arms and warned, "Don't make me hurt you."

"You hurt me?" He grinned wider. "Nice try. Now, you're going to go back to helping Rocky out, yeah? Or we're going to have to have a discussion."

About to stand by her refusal, a thought made her hesitate. She could agree, and then disappear. It wouldn't be hard. Slowly, she settled back with a nod. "Yeah, okay. I intended to do that anyway."

"Right." He didn't look convinced. "Banjo here will escort you to Rocky's place of business to ensure you don't get lost or attacked. Now, isn't he a nice guy?"

"Real pussy-cat," she said with a glance at the rather large specimen that claimed to be called Banjo. "Shall we go?"

Five minutes later, Banjo was doubled over groaning and Willow had hightailed it for parts unknown--at least, unknown to Badger. Leaving sounded like an excellent idea.

-

Sihnon.

Willow dropped her bag, looking around the lush forest that surrounded the very Asian-style building with a murmured, "Wow." She couldn't figure out why Inara left in the first place—it was gorgeous.

"You good?"

Remembering the shuttle behind her, Willow turned and smiled at the pilot, waving. "Yeah, thanks."

He touched his cap and took to the air to rejoin his ship. Willow couldn't help a smile. She had succeeded, after some serious searching, in finding a ship that would pass by Sihnon on its route and had a captain who didn't mind making a pit stop to drop her off, for the right amount of money. Money that she had, once she made a trip to Rocky's and picked up her savings--much to his disgruntlement.

As the shuttle vanished into the atmosphere, Willow slung her bag over her shoulder and started walking up the path to the training house. Her eyes traveled over the architecture appreciatively as she walked. Even if she didn't find Angel or any information about him here, it was definitely worth the trip to see the world.

Moving a little slower on account of her looking, Willow made her way up the steps and, after a moment's hesitation, knocked on the door. She wasn't sure if she needed to knock or not, but it was polite.

A girl answered the door, a curious smile on her face. "Can I help you?"

"Er—" What do you say to a teenager? I need to talk to someone about finding someone and I doubt you can help? "A—friend—said that you guys might be able to help me find someone. Who should I talk to?"

Blunt honesty usually got things moving.

The girl looked even more curious but stepped away from the door and said, "Would you like to talk to the house mistress?"

Did she? Willow stepped in with a hesitant, "Sure?"

The girl closed the door then said, "If you'll wait one moment, I'll get her."

She padded off. Willow looked around the large foyer, setting her small bag down by the door as she did so. The building was quiet, with an aura of calm that began to settle Willow's nerves very quickly. She smiled. The building was almost serene. Might explain _Serenity's_ draw to Inara. She closed her eyes, took a breath, held it for a moment, then slowly let it out. She did it again and felt for her magic, to see how strong it was. To her surprise, it was stronger than it had been yet, even on Osiris. As she opened her eyes with her hands clasped in front of her, feeling very calm for once, she wondered what caused the different levels.

She heard the woman before she saw her, and turned to face her with a little smile. "Hi."

"Hello," the woman said, looking her over. She stopped a few yards from Willow and smiled herself. "I'm told you are looking for assistance in finding someone?"

"That's right."

"If you don't mind my asking, why did you come to us? The Alliance is much better equipped to find people than we are."

"No." Willow couldn't help a grin, shaking her head. "I'm not here to ask you to help me find him. Inara said you might know him, or know of him."

The woman tilted her head curiously. "You know Inara?"

"Yeah." Willow nodded.

"Hmm." The woman appeared to be considering something. "Who is the man you seek?"

"His name's Angel."

There was a tiny reaction, so small Willow wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been watching for it. The woman recovered fast, though, asking pleasantly, "Do you know what he looks like?"

"He's tall," she said. "Dark hair, brown eyes, broad shoulders."

The woman looked at her patiently. "You do realize you've described probably half of our client base, yes?"

"Quiet," Willow continued. "Likes to help people. Kind of a night owl. Probably not a client."

The woman's eyebrows rose, and she said dryly, "There aren't too many men we know that aren't clients."

"Then I've probably just narrowed down the list, then." Willow smiled sweetly.

"Hmm." With a tilted head and pursed lips, the woman considered Willow for a long moment. Apparently decided, she gestured. "Would you come with me?"

"You know him, I take it?"

"No. But there are many other people here," she said, crisply enough that Willow cast her a sideways glance, surprised. Apparently, she had hit a nerve.

She followed the woman, unable to resist looking around as they walked. The woman took her to a large, open room with a window that overlooked the forested mountains. Another woman stood inside, looking at the view. She turned at their entrance and Willow stopped. She was not smiling.

Willow was very smart. It didn't take much for her to add two and two and come up with four. They knew Angel. They also weren't particularly pleased with her asking about him. The question was, why weren't they pleased? Because they liked him? Or because they didn't like him?

Then again, how did this woman know who she was looking for?

"How can the Guild of Companions help you?" the woman asked.

"I'm looking for Angel," Willow said, tired of hedging. "Do you know where he is?"

The new woman gave that same tiny reaction the first had given--startlement, she judged, mixed with a hefty dose of suspicion. She recovered even faster than the first, though, smiling indulgently.

"You make it sound as though you're certain we know the man of whom you speak," she remarked, making it sound like an idle comment as she sashayed forward a few steps. Willow folded her arms, not buying it.

"That would be because you do, otherwise you wouldn't be putting off the question with more questions," she informed the woman. "I need to talk to him."

The woman studied her for a moment, flicked a glance at the first woman, then turned away with a dismissive, "We don't know him. I wish you luck in your search."

The first woman lightly touched Willow's elbow to steer her out. Willow stepped out of her reach and said, "Inara wouldn't have sent me here if she wasn't pretty certain she knew who I was talking about. He tends to stand out, no matter how many people you know. After all, how many men named Angel do you know?"

The woman looked over her shoulder with a sniff. "I happen to know three. None of which have dark hair."

_Oy vey_. With a sigh, Willow said, almost tiredly, "You heard what I said to her. Do you spy on everybody?"

"Only strangers who come to the training house looking for people," the second woman said crisply.

Disbelief made Willow stare at her. "You're protecting him."

The woman glared.

"Oh—okay, I didn't see that coming." Still a little stunned, Willow moved forward, uncrossing her arms. "I'm not here to hurt him. He's an old friend. I need his help."

"With what?"

The question was almost contemptuous sounding, but the woman had a hard time hiding her curiosity.

"A situation."

"What kind of situation?"

"A situation," Willow repeated firmly. "Please, can you tell me where to find him? Or how to call him, have him meet me here, whatever. I need to talk to him."

The woman, who was apparently in charge, studied her for a long while before looking at the other woman. She looked back at Willow. "What is your name?"

"Willow. Willow Rosenberg. But—ah, it's been a really long time. He may not recognize the name."

Another long, studying look, then the woman said, "Wait here."

Both women left without another word.

Willow sagged against a wooden post, her eyes closed. He was alive. She hadn't let herself get her hopes up—five hundred years is a long time, even for a vampire. But they were going to go find him, which meant he was alive. Er…well, as alive as an undead creature can be.

She wasn't sure how long she waited—long enough that she sat down against the post, what with the dearth of chairs in the room—before she heard footsteps coming closer. She rose, watching the door. A relieved grin appeared on her face when the dark haired man entered. "Angel."

"Yes?" Angel asked. "Can I help you?"

Ouch. She had half-hoped that he would instantly recognize her, but that was stupid. Five hundred years—there was no way.

"Uh—Angel, it's Willow," she said, a little tentatively.

He folded his arms, looking nonplussed as he looked her over. "Yes, that's what they said your name was. Am I supposed to know you?"

"Ah—okay, uh—" Willow made a face, trying to figure out how to convince him of who she was. "Ooh—Buffy."

His eyebrows rose. "Buffy."

"Yeah. Willow Rosenberg, Buffy's best friend."

He just looked at her, still confused. She glared.

"Don't tell me you forgot about Buffy."

"Buffy who?" he asked with exaggerated patience.

"Summers! Buffy Summers! Small, blond, cute, kicked ass a lot."

That made him blink. She exhaled, a little exasperated. She hadn't expected him to forget.

"Look, I know it's asking you to go back a way in your memory, but do you remember Buffy? The love of your unlife, Juliet to your Romeo, etc, etc, ad naseum?"

"My unlife?" he asked with a snort. "What are you talking about?"

She frowned. "What, did you shanshu already?"

That made him freeze, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She had been starting to wonder.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Willow Rosenberg," she said patiently.

He shook his head, his face set. "Try again."

With a soft sigh, Willow stepped towards him. "Serious, Angel. It's me."

He shook his head again, and in a move too fast for her to follow, grabbed her wrist, twisted her arm around behind her back, and held her against his body, breathing in her ear, "Tell me who you are, who you're working with, and what you want."

"Willow Rosenberg, nobody, and your help," she said, trying to sound as patient as possible. He was a good vampire. He didn't kill people. Usually. Right. She began to struggle against his grip. "Angel, it's me! For cryin' out loud—don't make me hex you into next week! I'll do it!"

His grip tightened, and he snapped, "I don't have time for this. Tell me who you are, or I start to get nasty."

"For the love of—you and Buffy got together in 1996 when she moved to Sunnydale, California. Xander and I helped her fight vampires for years. You fell in love with her, made with the bad decision of bad decisions, loosed Angelus on the unsuspecting population—come on, am I jogging the memory?"

"I'm still waiting for an answer to my question."

"You, Wesley, Cordelia, Gunn, and Fred had Angel Investigations in Los Angeles. Come on, Angel, what else do I need to say to prove that I am Willow?"

Movement to the side distracted her for a split second. A split second was long enough; she froze in Angel's grip, staring at the small, dark haired woman that had stopped a few feet away to watch them.

"Fred?" she whispered.

Fred tilted her head to one side and smiled. Willow shook her own head, trying to remember her name… "Illyria."

Angel abruptly stepped back, releasing her so fast that she nearly fell. She managed to catch herself, still staring at Illyria in the guise of Winifred Burkle.

"What are you—how did you—" She looked to Angel. "Why the hell is she still with you? Do you realize you two are the _only_ two demons I've managed to find the entire time I've been here?"

Angel stared at her in disbelief. Illyria didn't move, but she asked, "How do you know my true name?"

"I met you, a long time ago," Willow said, suddenly feeling very tired. "Right after you--whatever you want to call it, were reincarnated. We were helping Angel out with a case."

She sighed, folding her arms and leaning back against a post, and looked back at Angel. "Do you remember now?"

"Oh, I never forgot about Buffy and her friends." Angel's voice was short, his arms crossed as he faced her squarely. "Believe me, that is one chapter of my life that I will never forget. But you still haven't answered my questions, and now I'm adding another. How did you find out all this? It's not exactly on the Cortex."

"How many times do I have to say I'm Willow?" Willow demanded. "I'm me. I was resurrected. Some after-life."

He shook his head immediately. "Impossible."

"Yeah, I thought so too. Apparently, we're both wrong."

"Willow wasn't killed by magical means," he said flatly. "A person who dies of natural or mundane means can't be brought back."

"Do vamps count?" she asked, resting her head back against the pole and staring at the ceiling. "They brought back Nikki Wood, and the Chinese chick Spike killed, and a few others. Angel, they brought back Faith."

She lowered her head to look at him, search his eyes. "The Alliance resurrected Faith."

"No."

"Yes."

"Why would the Alliance--_how_ would the Alliance do that? Get their hands on that information?" he demanded.

"Don't ask me."

"I just did."

She shrugged. He glared. "Okay, explain why you came to me? Do you need a job recommendation?"

She stared at him. "Angel--"

He raised his eyebrows.

"Angel, for crying out loud--I need your help."

"Doing what?" he demanded. "You've been brought back to life. Congratulations. Make yourself a new one."

"Finding out what the Alliance is up to," she corrected. "Why they brought seven slayers back to life--I mean, don't they have their own?"

"No."

Whoa. That was a little too short. Willow made a note to ask him to elaborate on that and continued. "They tried to kill me, Angel."

"So soon after bringing you back?" Now he frowned. "Why would they do that?"

Now she was getting somewhere. Finally.

She flicked a glance at Illyria, who was watching the show with cool curiosity, then looked back at Angel, a little hesitant now. "They missed. They got me by mistake. They were trying--they were trying to get Buffy."

He froze.

"They want her almost as badly as they wanted Faith," she said, a little urgently. "I don't know--I don't know what it'll do to her if she's--again--"

He shook his head, turning away, obviously not happy and not wanting to hear any of this. Whatever was going on in his life, he didn't relish the abrupt destabilization. It was Illyria who asked, "What do you mean they missed and brought you back? Resurrection is not that inexact."

"Apparently, their version is," Willow said, watching Angel. "I figure it was because there were numerous slayers around at one time and the spell mixed it up."

"But I still do not understand why you, a witch, would be chosen by the spell."

A sound from Angel made both women look at him. He stood there with his back to them, shaking his head, and said in a low voice, "Because she tied herself to the Slayer line."

"What?" Willow demanded.

He turned to look at her.

"The spell you cast, to call all the slayers."

"Yeah, what happened with that?" Willow asked. "Michaela said that by the time the world hit 2050, it was down to just her."

Angel smiled, but it wasn't a very nice smile.

"You know, we wondered, and theorized. Giles even postulated a lot, because they eventually realized that after you died, no new slayers were being called. It was actually Buffy, I think, that figured it out."

Still not understanding, Willow gave him a blank look when he waited expectantly. "Angel, you're being kind of a jerk, and I'm still not getting it. I used the scythe--there shouldn't have been a problem. That thing's indestructible, if harder to find than Arthur's sword."

"Yes, it is," Angel agreed. "But you're not."

"I--what? No, no one's indestruct--" She frowned, confused. "Why is that important?"

He sighed and ran his hand over his hair, suddenly looking less like a jerk and more like the Angel she remembered. "I don't remember all the details, but the bottom line was that you miscalculated on one thing."

Understanding dawned.

"The spell--it had to be tied to something."

He nodded. "And it was, and very well done, too. Unfortunately, it was tied to you, so when you died, the spell broke. No more new slayers."

Willow stared at him. "_Wuh duh ma huh tah duh fong kwong duh wai shung!_"

"That would be one way to put it," Angel agreed.


	10. Revelations

Disclaimer: Both BtVS and Firefly belong to Joss Whedon

Disclaimer: Both BtVS and Firefly belong to Joss Whedon. The basic idea for this story came from Yahtzee's _Phoenix Rising_. The idea of mixing these two 'verses in this way is mine.

A Leaf on the Wind

Revelations

"I cannot believe I did something that monumentally stupid!"

"Willow--"

"Blundering a spell is one thing, but this? This is so much worse. It's, like, off the scale worse!"

"Willow, it's not your fault," Angel said for what had to be the thousandth time.

They were walking through the forest gardens outside of the training house while Angel tried to calm Willow down a little. She was engaging in a bout of self-flagellation, and he was feeling guilty about being a jerk about how he told her. He had forgotten that Willow could be something of a perfectionist, especially about magic.

"What do you mean, it's not my fault? I cast the spell!"

"No one thought it would tie the line to you," he said as patiently as he could. "Okay? Not even Giles."

"Still!"

Willow let out a huge huff and slumped against a tree, shaking her head. "So stupid. All right, I'm not perfect. How does my incredible screw-up tie in with what's going on?"

"Huh?"

She gave him a look. "Come on. You think the two things aren't tied together somehow? This is magic. Coincidences are rarely coincidences."

Angel slid his hands into his pockets, frowning. "What makes you think there's even a relationship?"

She just looked at him hard.

"What?"

She looked at him harder.

He sighed and gave in, leaning against a tree of his own. "There--may--be a small connection."

She waited. When he didn't appear ready to elaborate, she asked, "Why did everyone leave Earth?"

He almost winced, and she couldn't help a grim smile. "It has something to do with demons, doesn't it?"

Angel made a face at her but nodded. "Yes."

"How?"

He sighed again, thumping his head back against the tree while he wondered if snarling at her again would make her go away. Probably not. "Can't you let it go?"

"No," she informed him. "I have to poke at it like a sore tooth until something finally gives."

He raised an eyebrow, and she added, "That something would be you, with the information. Now, mister. Come on."

When he still hesitated, she made a threatening gesture with her hand. He raised his own in surrender. "All right, all right. Gees."

"Good."

Angel took a breath, which he didn't need, and said, "As the number of slayers went down, the number of demons rose. Eventually, there were too many of them. The Initiative knew about demons, obviously, and while they were disbanded, the information was still there. There became too many for the Council to keep it quiet."

"When?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

"Less than a fifty years after you died," he said soberly. "A couple decades after we were back down to one. The last slayer on earth--she was a feisty one. Good fighter. Not as good as Buffy, but she held her own."

"What was her name?" Willow asked.

Angel frowned, thinking. "I think it was Michaela, but I could be wrong."

"Michaela?" Willow repeated. "Greek looking? From America?"

"That's the one," he agreed.

"I've met her."

He stared at her. "How did you manage that?"

She just smiled without a trace of humor on her face. "She would be one of the ones brought back."

Angel muttered a curse word that Willow didn't recognize, pushing off the tree and pacing back and forth. "She knew about the exodus."

"What about it, Angel?" Willow asked, trying to sound patient.

He glanced at her but didn't stop pacing. "I mentioned the Initiative files?"

She nodded.

"The American government reopened them. Contacted the Watcher's Council, and the other governments. Demons were an open secret by that time. They all worked together to build ships large enough to carry a portion of the world's population to the closest inhabitable world."

"Wait." Willow straightened, staring at him. "The Council and the governments worked together?"

He nodded. "They took charge."

"Oh God, please don't tell me," she groaned.

"What? That the Alliance is a direct descendent of the Watcher's Council? Yeah."

"Oh--_gos se_," she groaned. "No wonder I couldn't find them."

"You went looking for the Council?" he demanded, stopping and staring at her.

Surprised by his sudden sharpness, she said, "Not in an obvious way. I didn't put Watcher's Council in the search engine, if that's what you're worried about."

He blinked. "Actually--that's exactly what I was worried about. Er--good job."

"Thanks," she said sarcastically, then sighed and slid down to the ground, leaning her head back against her tree. "Angel?"

"Yeah?"

Without opening her eyes, she felt him move closer to stand in front of her. "Why would the Alliance bring back seven slayers?"

"I don't know," he admitted, crouching down beside her. "I'm not sure I want to know."

She nodded, opening her eyes to look at him. "If they manage to bring Buffy back--"

"If they bring Buffy back, our troubles will be over," he said dryly. "Because she'll kill them. She said as much before she died."

"That she'd kill anyone who tried to resurrect her this time?"

"Yup."

Despite her worry, Willow had to smile at that. "Sounds like her."

"It should." He sat down beside her and got comfortable. "It was her, you know."

"Yeah." Willow watched the leaves on the trees for a few moments, thinking. "Why are you and Illyria the only two demons around?"

"You haven't figured it out?"

"If I'd figured it out, I wouldn't have asked you."

That made Angel grin. He answered, "Most of them stayed on earth--the world's governments and the Council were very careful about allowing demons on board, even the good or neutral ones. The ones that did manage to sneak aboard--if they were discovered, they were killed. Most of them died off within a few hundred years because not enough were around to repopulate. The rest are scattered, hiding out on the Rim planets."

She nodded. That made sense, and she had sort of worked a lot of that out already. "Why's Illyria still with you?"

"Ah." He nodded, rueful. "Well. With no worshippers and no temple, she really didn't have anywhere else to go. She chose to come with me. Better chance of being able to kill someone, I think."

"Ah."

He glanced at her. "Any more burning questions?"

Willow watched the leaves again for a long moment, debating whether to ask. But, this was Angel, and she was Willow. If he told anyone, it would be her. "Where's the current Slayer?"

He froze. She turned her head to look at him soberly. "This is serious-face, remember? There's nothing that would account for the slayer line ending. Even if it had to be on earth. And you're not very good at lying. So. Where is she?"

"Safe," he said finally after wrestling with himself.

"Yeah." She searched his face. "I bet she is. I bet everyone single one of them for the last few hundred years have been safe with you. Ever since the mass exodus, right?"

"Not every one," he said, his face tight. "Some I missed."

Willow nodded and flicked a glance up at the training house. "Inara can fight."

He blinked, caught off guard by the sudden apparent shift in topic. "What?"

"Inara Serra." Willow looked at him seriously. "She can fight. She can handle a sword, and a gun, and a few others."

"How do you know that?"

She shrugged. "You find out things when you're on a ship. That's not the point. Inara can fight. She's not a slayer. She's a Companion. Why would a Companion need to know how to fight?"

"Willow," Angel warned. He rose to his feet, shaking his head very firmly. "Leave it alone."

"They all know how to fight, don't they? They all know how to handle themselves around weapons and such, don't they?"

Willow looked up at Angel, serious, leaving no room for evasion. "The slayer's here, isn't she? You hid her among the Companions. No one would notice, except maybe the ladies in charge, and they're all in the know. That's why they're so protective of you. Because you protect the slayer."

"I said leave it alone," he snapped.

"How long have you been hiding out here?"

He glared.

"You find some of the oddest places to hide people," she remarked.

"What?" He stared at her. "I do not. Why would you say that? I don't find weird places to hide people."

She just smiled. He shifted uneasily. "Do I?"

"Yes, you do. Not that it's a bad thing." Willow stared up at the sky, taking deep, even breaths.

Angel watched her for a moment with slightly narrowed eyes. She looked like she was meditating, and he said as much. "You're meditating?"

"It's very peaceful here," she replied without opening her eyes.

"Uh huh." He folded his arms. "You don't usually meditate unless it's something to do with magic."

Willow just smiled slightly. "Oh, you remember that, do you?"

"I remember more than that, Will," Angel said, his voice serious. "What's up?"

"My magic." She let out a deep breath, a half smile still on her face. "It's stronger here than it's been. It's great."

Angel frowned and moved a little closer, watching her. "It fluctuates?"

"Yeah." Slowly, feeling calm and almost refreshed, Willow opened her eyes to look at him, that half smile still on her face. "Every planet is different."

Looking intent, Angel leaned forward, watching her closely. "What about out in space?"

She tilted her head to one side, studying his face. "You know something?"

"Let's just say I have a hunch. Space?"

She searched his face still before finally leaning back. "It's the weakest out in space. That means something to you."

"What tipped you off?"

"The little smirk helped," she said dryly.

He grinned briefly then sobered. "What does it mean to you?"

She considered him thoughtfully, finally saying, "I'm a witch. That means my power comes from the earth, so its weakness in space makes sense."

He nodded.

"But on the planets?"

A wry little smile appeared on his face. "You know about the terraforming they did?"

"Of course."

He glanced around the forest. "This planet is one of the closest to what earth was like, before they terraformed it. It had plant life, and water. It just needed the right atmosphere and enough oxygen."

"Ah." She nodded. "I get it."

And she did.

"The closer to Earth's make-up the planets were originally, the more magic I can draw from them, is that what you're saying?"

"That's what I'm saying," he agreed.

"Well, that would make sense." She glanced around. "A lot of sense."

Footsteps made the pair of them look down the path. Illyria-as-Fred, something Willow was still having a hard time with, ambled up the path with a young woman who moved like a warrior. Willow looked at Angel, at the sudden tightness around his eyes.

"Illyria's not stupid, Angel."

"No," he agreed. "Just incautious."

"She's a demon," Willow pointed out.

"True."

They watched in silence as the pair drew closer.

"What's her name?"

Angel looked down at Willow soberly. "Tera."

Willow jerked and stared at him. "You're kidding."

"No."

She looked back at the young woman, blowing out a breath. "Well, if that's not the work of the Trickster gods."

"Demon," he corrected.

"Yes, thanks, I know." She rolled her eyes, muttering, "Gees."

When the two women got close enough, Angel and Willow got to their feet, and Angel raised his hand in greeting. "Tera, Fred."

Willow's head turned sharply towards him. "Fred?"

"Too many people knew the name Illyria," Angel muttered. "She uses Fred's name. She is still a demon, you know."

"Nice trick," Willow muttered back.

"Yeah."

"Hi Angel," the young woman, Tera, said, her eyes on Willow. "Who's your friend?"

Willow glanced up at Angel. "She's jealous?"

"She's--protective," Angel corrected.

"That was a distinctly jealous use of the word friend," Willow said, hiding a smile.

"She's not jealous."

"She sounded jealous."

"She's not jealous, Willow."

"She really did sound jealous, Angel."

"She's not--Tera, can you tell her you're not jealous?" Angel demanded.

"I'm not jealous," Tera said, her face deadpan.

"You sure sounded jealous," Willow informed her, a hint of a smile creeping out.

"I'm not."

"You sure?"

Illyria looked on in amusement, waiting for Tera's answer. So did Angel, though he looked on in exasperation. Tera just grinned. "Honey, you can have him."

"And zing." Willow grinned at Angel. "Burned. Figuratively, of course. Hey--daylight?"

"It's shady. Did I just get passed over?" Angel demanded.

"You did," Willow agreed. She held out her hand to Tera. "Hi. I'm Willow. I'm a really, _really_ old friend of Angel's."

"Tera," the young woman said, shaking her hand. "How'd you two meet?"

"He dated a friend of mine."

Angel glared at her.

Illyria remarked idly, "It was somewhat more than simple dating from what I've heard."

Angel glared even harder at Illyria.

"You're right," Willow agreed. "And he was more than just a friend's boyfriend. What more that was depended on what day of the week it was…"

"Willow!"

Tera was grinning between Willow and Angel, and she told Willow, "We need to talk. I've known him for years, and I've never managed to put him that far off balance."

"It is fun, isn't it?"

"Oh yeah."

"Okay. I'm going in now," Angel said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm getting ganged up on by a slayer and a witch. How did this happen to me? _Again_?"

As he made his return that was not an escape no matter what it looked like into the training house, Tera cast Willow a sideways glance. "You're a witch?"

"You're a slayer," Willow replied. "Slay much?"

"Not really," Tera admitted.

Willow studied her and felt a brief moment of sympathy. "Kinda hard, isn't it? Instincts say to fight, but there's nothing to fight."

Tera blinked, startled. "How did you know?"

Illyria chose this moment to remind them she was present, remarking, "Willow has--experience--with slayers. You two chat on. I'm going to go see where Angel slunk off to."

"Probably the training room," Tera called after her. "We've got practice in ten minutes."

"He trains you?"

Tera nodded, turning back to Willow. "It's the only outlet I've got at the moment. There was a guy that showed up a while back that I'd've liked to kick his butt, but he was waiting for some cowboy. Angel said to let it go."

"Angel is--quite often right about things," Willow said. "Except when he's emotionally involved."

Tera's eyebrows rose. "He has emotions?"

"Somewhere in there, yeah," Willow chuckled. "How long have you known him?"

"Since I was twelve." Tera scratched her head, considering. "That was twelve years ago, come to think of it."

"Congratulations." Willow's voice was dry, making the other woman grin.

"Thanks." The casual look on Tera's face made Willow wary. "Would you like to come see the training room?"

"Do I have a choice?" she wondered.

"Not really. Come on. It'll be fun."

As a faux-reluctant Willow and cheery Tera made their way back to the training house, Willow asked, "Does Angel talk about Earth a lot?"

"Sometimes." The other woman looked thoughtful as she walked. "He gets into these moods sometimes--remembering the past."

"He is over 700 years old," Willow pointed out.

"Yeah, but--" Tera flashed her a huge grin. "He doesn't like to advertise."

They both got a snicker out of that as they made their way through the door into the training house and nearly ran into the second woman Willow had spoken with. She frowned at the pair of them, but looked more puzzled than displeased, and asked, "Tera?"

"This is Willow," Tera offered.

"We've met," Willow said, giving the woman a half smile. "I'm not sure she really believed Angel and I are old friends."

"I have known Angel for a long time," the woman informed Willow. "While I suspect he knows quite a few people I'm not familiar with, I didn't expect one to show up on our doorstep."

"That's okay," Willow assured her. "I mean, if I had wished him ill, I'd've still gotten through, but he would have probably killed me, so it's all good. Safety measures I don't have a problem with."

The woman raised one elegant eyebrow then nodded and strode off. "Good."

Tera was staring, and Willow asked, "What?"

"He would have killed you if you'd wished him ill? Did they talk like that back in the twenty-first century?"

"Twentieth, maybe." Willow scowled at her. "Quit fussing about my word choice and show me where this training room is."

"Are you going to join in?"

"What?" Willow put her hands on her hips and mock-glared. "You're the Slayer. You need it, not me. But--" she added before Tera could reply. "If you insist, I suppose."

A wicked grin spread across the Slayer's face, and she bowed theatrically. "Right this way, then."

Willow followed her, muttering, "I think I'm going to regret this."


End file.
